Lyrics

Well Past Midnight

Monsters a-hunt in monster-land,
the worst ones hungry for Man?
younger the better, tender and sweet,
meat for the prowling clan.
Call to mind, if ever you can
from this end of your own span,
the carnal fright of the Thing in the Night
that no child could ever withstand.

Weep from dread, but no one'd listen?
they'd laugh as you're packed off to bed:
remember its lair at the top of the stairs?
despair as you ended the climb?
"There's nothing there," you finally learned it,
instinct shut down true and fair:
a million years of big-cat fear,
and dark was its fetch-baby time.

Well past midnight, and nobody home
but yourself and the Devil's bones:
the carnal fright of the Thing in the Night
a headful of echoes alone.
Well past midnight and nobody's home
but yourself and the toothy ghost:
the naked fright, the Thing in the Night,
and a headful of echoes alone.

We killed us the Devil and left his lair,
now we look for him everywhere:
we find him in witches, and vampire glamour,
and neighbours who use their left hand.
The beast is dead, but his ghost goes on,
locked in with a baby's cry:
carnal fright and the Thing in the Night
mean something is bound to die.

Blood-red-handed, lost in the tango,
we long for a whiff of the damned:
the evil we need, in thought or in deed,
we sniff out wherever we can.
"We'll make them bleed," we finally learned it,
necessity sowing new seed:
the Prince of Darkness looming large, in
the African cradle of Man.

Well past midnight, and nobody home
but yourself and the Devil's bones:
the carnal fright of the Thing in the Night
a headful of echoes alone.
Well past midnight and nobody's home
but yourself and the toothy ghost:
the naked fright, the Thing in the Night,
and a headful of echoes alone.

©1999, lyrics by Thom Moore, music by Charlie Lennon