The Thing
The monster in the hall
The demon in the closet
The banshee in the hamper
The lizard that can't crawl
It wraps around your arms
Like a heavy black snake
The thing's sadistic charms
Will leave you awake
It has cold, metal skin
That will doubtlessly in
With fingers like knives
That easily take lives
The thing is huge: ten feet tall
With glaring yellow eyes
That attack at surprise
It comes from the land where nothing grows
And nobody there in the land knows
What peace and bliss and gladness are
Because the good land is so afar
The few in the bad land are unlucky troops
Fighting and fighting the thing
They want to be in the good land far, far away
But The Thing assures the The Thing will get its way
The Thing can't be touched by anyone but them.
The Thing simply can't be destroyed.
The Thing's murders are very grim
Especially when
You're next.
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