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Sitting up, late at nightI tiptoe through the darknessCold as hell, black as spadesAware of my immediate surroundingIn my place I escape up into my hideoutHiding from everyoneMy friends all say,"Dave you're mental anyway" hey!Drift into a deeper stateI stalk the cobwebbed stairwaysDirt grits between my feetThe stair creaks, I precariously sneakHypnosis guides my handI slipside through the walkwaysSit in granny's rockin' chairMemories are whirling by, yeahReminisce in the atticLucretia waits impatientlyCobwebs make me squintThe cobra so eloquently glintsMoonbeams surge through the skyThe crystal ball's energizedSurely that like the cat waitingLucretia rocks away