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Sitting up late at night, I tiptoe through the darkness

Cold as hell, black as spades, aware of my immediate surrounding

It’s in my place well I escape, up into my hideout

Hiding from everyone, my friends all say, “Dave you’re mental anyway” hey

Drift into a deeper state, I stalk the cobwebbed stairways

Dirt grits beneath my feet, the stair creaks, I precariously sneak, yeah

Hypnosis guides my hand, I slip slide through the walkways

Sit in granny’s rocking chair, memories are whirling by, yeah

Reminisce in the attic, Lucretia waits impatiently

Cobwebs make me squint, the cobra so eloquently glints

Moonbeams surge through the sky, the crystal ball’s energized

Surely that like the cat waiting, Lucretia rocks away, hey