Rock­a­bye baby...

High on the rocks

Thinking you’re safe,

and god knows you’re not

Baby is sleeping,

unknowing of its fate

Far, far down

there lies a frozen lake

For when the wind blows,

the cradle will fall

splinter to pieces

like a shabby wooden wall

Here the wind comes,

gentle and sweet

Planning the gruesome,

drawn­out death

the poor baby will soon meet

Forward and back,

the cradle will rock

The wind will softly caress,

all the way down

until the baby’s skull

shatters on the dock

From the high rooftops,

into the sea

No one could hear

the poor baby’s screams

Rock­a­bye baby,

high on the rocks

Thinking you’re safe

and god knows you’re not