Mr. Jenkins
As the dark clouds grow
And they gather overhead
I hear the creaking
Mixed with a low wind.
I hear the groaning
Mr. Jenkins must be fed.
I pray thee, Mr. Jenkins,
Take them in my stead.
Ocean swells roll the distance.
Green waves against dirty panes
The fishing village
hidden in endless horror.
A house is all that remains.
The centuries of a lore,
For Mr. Jenkins the demon.
With the ocean storm,
He arrives carried by wind,
Born in flight on rain-filled skies.
Lightning streaks across the eye,
As the thunder peals,
A most mournful tone.
As the dark clouds grow
And they gather overhead
I hear the creaking
Mixed with a low wind.
I hear the groaning
Mr. Jenkins must be fed.
I pray thee, Mr. Jenkins,
Take them in my stead.
Rain smashes harder,
Beating through broken glass panes.
The low wind growing stronger,
Bearing with it a monster.
With passing of each second,
An inescapable fate,
Creeps closer to me.
As the dark clouds grow
And they gather overhead
I hear the creaking
Mixed with a low wind.
I hear the groaning
Mr. Jenkins must be fed.
I pray thee, Mr. Jenkins,
Take them in my stead.
I can hear the steps,
Echoing in the distance.
Little time is left,
As the monster comes for me.
The gale rages on,
Filled with unquenchable lust.
He stalks me with glee,
I can hear them laugh.
His approach is imminent.
The long claws scrape against walls,
As he comes for me.
As the dark clouds grow
And they gather overhead
I hear the creaking
Mixed with a low wind.
I hear the groaning
Mr. Jenkins must be fed.
I pray thee, Mr. Jenkins,
Take them in my stead.