Cthulhu reigns.

The Great Old Ones Destroy

With wrath and doom, so cruel and foul,

Replete with obscene joy.

He rules the Earth with dreadful might,

And through our ghastly dreams

His twisting turning tentacles

Elicit from us maddened screams.

The evil is stronger,

And there’s much to fear.

It’s the most horrible time of the year.

It’s the unhappiest season of all.

When your knuckles are whitening

From visions so frightening,

You must not recall:

It’s the unhappiest season of all.

Great Cthulhu is calling.

Insanity’s falling,

And cultists are roaming the land.

With darkness descending,

Our destiny’s bending

To forces we can’t understand.

It’s the most horrible time of the year.

There’ll be ritual killing

And omens fulfilling,

As Old Ones appear.

Everywhere I go.

From the minute I got to town,

And started to look around,

I thought these ill-bred peoples’ gill-slits showed.

I’m beginning to hear a lot of fishmen

Right outside my door.

As I try to escape in fright

To the moonlit inns with night,

I can hear some more.

They speak with guttural croaks

And to hear them provokes

A profound desire to flee.

Their eyes never blink,

And quite frankly they stink

Like a carcass washed up from the sea.

I wish I’d paid attention

To that crazy drunken man.

He tried to warn me all about

Old Marsh’s deep born clan.

It’s beginning to look a lot like fishmen

Everywhere I go.

They can dynamite devil reef,

But that will bring no relief.

Yhanthlei is deeper than they know!

I’ll continue to see a lot of fishmen.

That I guarantee.

For the fishman I really fear,

Is the one who’s in the mirror,

And he looks like me.