Illnath

The sun sets at last, sliding slowly and silently down
'Low the horizon in the west, where a small house lies...
The puppet-man is ending his workday, as the starlight peak through the
clouds
He's worked all day and says goodnight to his dolls before he close the door
He lives alone in this house, and it's his home and a way of living
Though he thought he knew all the secrets of his house, there's more...
'Cause tonight... the puppets are roaming the room
In spite... of being creatures of iron and wood
They live as well as you and I
Though driven by other forces inside
And tonight the creator's biggest pride
Will make his way through the door and charge to take the puppet-man's life
Now the doll runs through the living-room
And he's hiding in the dimly faded gloom
Now he's approaching the bed
And won't leave until the body is dead
But the creator awakes before the doll can fulfill the task
And he's paralyzed in amazement as he sees his hand-made mask
Of the horrifying devil he made
Once so many years ago
And he cannot even scream as the knife