It’s surprisingly warm ouside tonight.
There aren’t really words to describe the terror, hate, anxiety I feel right now.
The moon knows.
He’s seen everything, all of my life after the sun goes down and I awaken.
The moon knows.
He knows the words to all my songs.
The moon knows.
Yes, he knows my name and what I’m doing, going to be doing, tonight here in these dry dry cornfields. They, too, whisper my name.
And then I hear it. My name.
Not in the lovely stare of the moon or the comforting chill of the cornfield.
No, no, it sounds like him.
He has come tonight.