Like a merciless warrior,
victorious in battle
poised to strike down his helpless opponent
laughing in trimph as he swings his mighty sword,
blood singing for blood, for carnage, for women, for gold,
a chorus of desires crescendoing to a thunderous chord
as the blade cuts through armor, clothing, flesh, and severs the head,
like a merciless warrior
the night comes.

Like a dark enchanter,
murderous spells ready to slay any who intrude into the lair,
preparing his most vile creation yet,
a horror of acids and deadly poisons and foul relics
besmelling the rank dungeon
as evil and powerful magic crackles in the air,
ghastly light and eerie smoke obscuring the saturnine features of the magician,
but not his anticipation of massive death and plagues to come, no!
not the cruel hunger in his eyes or the awful grin,
like a dark enchanter
the night comes.

The mist obscures and the deadness falls
And terrified spirits hide while evil roams.
The cackles of the damned echo throughout the land.
And there is no release from the gusts of chill or the bursts of fear
And nothing left to say

Like the power it is
The night has come.