Some old press clippings, my uncle's notes, a bas-relief made of clay. The horrors that these convey have given me much dismay. I think I'm starting to go insane. Strange nightmare images haunt my brain.
I'm dreaming of a dead city Where Deep Ones swim in depths of night. Where Cthulhu's sleeping while stars go creeping Until the time when they are right.
I'm dreaming of a dead city With angles Euclid wouldn't know, That was built strange eons ago, and will soon come up from down below.
I'm dreaming of a dead city Where Deep Ones swim in depths of night. Where Cthulhu's sleeping while stars go creeping Until the time when they are right.
I'm dreaming of a dark future Ruled by that Three-Lobed Burning Eye; When the Old Ones' coming is nigh, and you find that death itself may die.