Something Wicked...

Down in the hollow, where the shadows play, Rob found a book, bound in dust and decay. He cracked it open, with a trembling hand, The words poured out, like snakes in the sand. Something wicked stirs the air, A chant, a spell, a devil’s snare. He sought the fame, the gold, the name, But he called the dark, and the dark it came. He lit three candles and carved his name, Strummed his guitar, it didn’t sound the same. The strings hummed low, like a funeral dirge, His soul played notes that began to surge. Something wicked stirs the air, A chant, a spell, a devil’s snare. He sought the fame, the gold, the name, But he called the dark, and the dark it came. The fire burned low, but shadows danced high, Faces in smoke, a ghost’s lullaby. His fingers bled, but he couldn’t stop, Each note he played felt like a drop. The crowd came near, but their eyes grew wide, His music chilled, it couldn’t be denied. A power grew that he didn’t command, Whispers of darkness took hold of his hand. Something wicked stirs the air, A chant, a spell, a devil’s snare. He sought the fame, the gold, the name, But he called the dark, and the dark it came. He looked to the sky, but the stars wouldn’t shine, A wicked smile whispered, “You’re now mine.”