Floating in the mausoleum.

It is not as it appears

Shooting strangers if it sees them.

A severed finger in a box

You’ll think such things so unbehooving

But you’ll be knocked out of your socks

When the severed digit begins moving!

And when the Tall Man hollers, “Boy!”

You will want to duck for cover

Sweet slumber forever destroyed

When over your bed he hovers!

But you always have your brother

Though he might leave with the season

His best friend is yet another

As they sing a folk song for some reason.

Will they comprehend your tale

Of aliens and undertakers?

Or will all of your attempts fail

As they call you “mad” and “faker.”

With this friend, a seller of ice cream

You take on evil that won’t quit.

But wait! Relief! It’s all a dream.