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Have you ever halted in the middle of street,
Stopping, and pausing even your heartbeat,
All because you heard a voice,
A voice with your name cradled in it.
You might have turned around then,
Searched and found no familiar faced friend,
Then you might have walked on again,
Telling yourself it was all in your head.
If you're to be believed.
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But if you had ever followed that sound,
You would have very well found,
A world apart from yours,
Where magic reigns and physics holds no doubt.
A place of wonder and awe,
Beauty, the likes of which you never saw,
Beautiful in nature and its creatures,
A place without limits or laws.
A garden of gold, silver and platinum,
Where beautiful bodied angels lightly hum,
And sing of music and knowledge and all that is to admire,
Where every sorrow, every pain is lost in the depth of a harped strum.
If you ever followed the voice you might find a world that is,
Much more than you ever saw or dreamed,
But only if you have the courage to follow,
That Voice to This World and let it swallow you whole.
And That's what they would like you to believe.
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But No! I'm here to tell you to flee,
The song of these sirens points to no paradise free,
They call out the names of those that they thirst for,
When your crimson blood calls out to their very being.
They don't discriminate between a man or woman,
Fair or dark, animal or human,
But there's one life they spare,
A child with more innocence than they can bear.
So when a child tells you of an invisible companion,
Know that the little one is not lying,
Know the danger is closer to home than you think,
There's destruction coming, one beyond comparison.
There's more threat in that one harmless, faceless voice,
Than eerie laughter in the night of no noise,
More death resides in that one unsolicited call,
Than in the blackness of the darkest voids.
Do you know the terrors of the seven hells?
Then you better be listening to me well,
Because if they call you and you do look back,
They will find you and rejoice at the agony in your yells.
They are sharpening their teeth,
In anticipation they are waiting to eat,
And even as we quietly whisper about this abomination,
All they want is a few human tears and a little human meat.
Well that is, if I am to be believed.
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