Everynight, she sees those dark things,
the shadows don't only live inside her twisted mind.
They ooze out of the cave-like closets
nightmares of the most horrifying kind.
And every night she screams to sleep,
ghosts of candy cane memories linger in her mind.
Those lovely nightmares where the cities burn;
they are her favorite kind.
So hush little baby,
now please try not to cry.
The boogie man's the least of your worries
when you're living just to die.
The ferris wheels spin inside her head,
beneath the cloud on which the giants play.
She can speak a thousand languages,
but they're dead and she's got nothing to say.
Oh what to do when you're the little girl
with angel wings and a devil's tongue?
She owns the heavens and the sky,
time travels and knows how the West was won.
But hush up, little baby,
cuz if you even think to cry,
the boogie man'll get us,
and it'll be your fault I die.
Darling, here's your lullaby,
ya, here's your nightmare's favorite song.
Please the nightmares, and baby, you can't go wrong.
