He hears not the dog's bark,
For he fears the dark.
In the light no longer shall he be,
Since what lurks he cannot see.

He fears to sleep
In this his own keep.
He will awaken with a scream,
For he is cursed by his dream.

He longs for the light of day,
Yet his body says nay.
For he would now do more than scream,
Since it is the light which haunts his dream.

Billions of foolish mortals
Walking like dinner.
The choice which faces the immortals,
Which shall die a sinner?

These mortals are mere toys,
Which will make the most noise?
Without the noise, where be the thrill?
For 'tis the noise which makes the kill.