THE THING IN THE WOODS

[Intro - LOW] [Night insects, low guitar harmonic] There is a rule about walking through the woods at night. You never hear the thing that wants you. You hear everything else go quiet. [Verse 1] [Dirty bass groove, dry drums] The moon hangs crooked between black branches, white as a tooth in a dead man's smile. My boots break twigs. The sound runs ahead, then comes back from somewhere I haven't reached. I stop. The woods take another step. Darkness doesn't hide things. It teaches them how to wait. [Pre-Chorus] [Hammond rises] I hear my coat brush against bark. Then the same sound from somewhere ahead. I haven't moved. [Chorus - BIG] DON'T FOLLOW THE SOUND! IT'S NOT BEHIND YOU! DON'T TURN WHEN THE TREES USE YOUR VOICE! THE THING IN THE WOODS DOESN'T CHASE. IT KNOWS WHERE YOU'RE GOING. AND EVERY PATH YOU THINK YOU CHOOSE— BENDS TOWARD IT. [Verse 2] [Heavier groove] There's a deer standing in the road. No eyes. Only two dark hollows filled with moonlight. It opens its mouth— and my own voice comes out: “Keep walking.” The trees lean inward. My shadow slides ahead of me. Then turns around. I don't. [Pre-Chorus 2] Something whistles a tune I know. A tune from before memory. The forest should not know that. [Chorus - HIGHER] DON'T FOLLOW THE SOUND! IT'S NOT BEHIND YOU! DON'T TURN WHEN THE TREES USE YOUR VOICE! THE THING IN THE WOODS DOESN'T HUNT. IT REMEMBERS YOUR DIRECTION. AND EVERY ROAD YOU THINK YOU CHOOSE— BENDS TOWARD IT. [Bridge - VERY LOW] [Only bass drone and distant piano] No birds. No wind. No insects. Nothing. Then— applause. Slow. Polite. From somewhere between the trees. I say: “Thank you.” A voice answers: “Again.” [Final Build] [Stop-start guitars] Same tree. Same moon. Same clearing. Same shadow. The forest isn't a place. It's a room. And something has been rearranging the furniture. [Final Chorus - HIGHEST] DON'T FOLLOW THE SOUND! DON'T TURN WHEN THE DARK STARTS ANSWERING! THE THING IN THE WOODS DOESN'T NEED TO FIND YOU. YOU WALKED INTO ITS THOUGHT. AND NOW EVERY PATH LEADS DEEPER— EVEN THE ONE THAT LOOKS LIKE HOME. [Outro - SHORT] [Morning birds return] Sunrise. My car exactly where I left it. I open the door. The driver's seat is warm. And the radio is already on. [Whisper through static] You took the long way.