Mother of all Herds...

Midnight. Midnight. Midnight. Midnight.
Hark at the hands of the clock.

Out in the night the nightmares ride;
And the nightmares’ hooves draw near.
Dead men pummel the panes outside,
And the living quake with fear.
Quietness stretches the pendulum’s chain
To the limit where terrors start,
Where the dead and the living find again
They beat with the selfsame heart

Midnight. Midnight. Midnight. Midnight.
Hark at the hands of the clock.