The Darkened Figure

There is a darkened figure That sits upon my bed, Quietly he contemplates What's running through my head.

Each time I find him there His bony fingers tap away, The more I wish that he were gone: The more I know he's going to stay.

He's there; on planes and trains and cars, He's there - just out of sight. And I know when I get home He'll be there again tonight.

There is a darkened figure That sits upon my bed, His raspy voice that tells me "I lurk inside your head."