It may be my imagination
And of course I'm prone to exaggeration
But in the moth eaten gloom of my shabby room I saw the strangest manifstation
One possible explaination is that it was merely a trick of the light
But that's little consolation
'Cause it's gotten so that I can't sleep at night!
What Presence?!
Steppin' out 'neath a harvest moon, steppin' out to the strains of this self-same tune and it's screaming in my ears
