She dances in the dark in slippers made of moonlight,
Looking in the shadows for the fairies with twisted fingers
And the beasts with gleaming white-bright teeth.
She twirls in the eddies of thick, cold fog
And soaks it all in like a blood stained rug;
She weaves your whispers into trees like smoke,
And stokes the fires of our dreams.
Her black, empty eyes reflect no light,
and her dance is dark and eerie.
It flows like a dead man's corpse in the river,
It sways like a noose hanging in a tree.
You know this dance, yes, you do.
She's the nightmare keeper.
And she'll come for you.