All the light turns to madness
patterns of matter
by passing around
Once upon the sun goes down.

The tricks of the trade
The plans that were made
The mask fitting before noon.
The clown, no the buffoon.

The whistles of the tune made break at dusk
we dust, we dust
we rise from our lust
prepare for yet another night .

It's someones job to give everybody fright.
The soft shallow terrors of the night.