Tired

You know when you've not slept a while and eyes are stinging red
And all you want to do right then is go up to your bed
Why is it then that sometimes though your body cries for sleep
Your brain cannot turn off, even after counting sheep

When little things you know are in place in your room
Are evil brought to life, but with an added slice of doom
The jumper that you know you threw so lazily aside
Is taken by a demon and will cut you open wide

The ever present aftershave, with such a lovely smell
Must surely be Beelzebub beckoning to hell
But only if you keep yourself entirely under sheets
Will the crazy psychopath admit that last defeat

Only if you keep those eyes closed for all your worth
Can you be saved from Krueger, Bates, Myers, or even worse
For though these people were made up in somebody else's mind
It doesn't mean they can't creep up and kill you from behind

The knife which went a while ago, is unaccounted for
You know you simply put it the wrong place or drawer
But what if such a simple thought was covering the facts
That knife was in the psycho's hand and he's coming round the back

And that reminds me, did even lock the kitchen door?
I know i do it usually but i have forgot before
Should i be brave, get out of bed, and go downstairs and check?
But what if I get killed down there, a blade across my neck?

That noise just then, I heard, I swear. The squeaky landing floor
Did i just see a shadow fall under my bedrrom door?
If just one thing can stop him driving that knife in up to the hilt,
It's surely staying tucked up here, my eyes closed under quilt.

If i keep my feet and toes far back from edge of bed
Never could the demon wraith escape from in my head
Maybe if i turn the bedroom light on without warning
The Lord of the Flies will leave me here, at least until the morning.