I call apond the north, south, east
To make this storm big and best.
Make the thunder roll so bold so loud,
Like a child trying to get out.
The lighting strikes,
Giving hope that no one dies,
Children screaming in the night,
Knowing you will see him,
So fight.
He is a work of horror,
Worse than the lions roar.
Coming to life to kill his prey.
Stay put mothers cry,
Afraid of the night,
Wishing for the day.
Go home,
Turn on the light,
Look under your bed,
Or you might not make it through the night.
I call apond the north, the south, the east, the west,
To weaken the horrors terrible kiss.
