In the cold room, in darkness they celebrate their fare
A menagerie of phantoms who whisper
And titter and howl and swear
Hoping, their host abandons his earth-bound chair
“Enter our realm!” they say with delight
The church bells suddenly ring – they sing, they sing!
They hearald the end and beginning
Of perfect twilight- the time between day and darkest night
The fire in the hearth has gone out, and the table is bare
The crib is empty and the children aren’t here
The flaming desert is served on a silver plate made from linen and tears
It grows and feasts upon the neverland's tears
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