The mortals locked in mortal toil,
And sunshine grows the green grass soil,
But darkness creeps in with the moon,
The demons they are coming soon.

When they hide in dark night's coil,
When they ride on cold wind's howl,
Beware the grimlocks when you bed,
For on your dreams the beasts are fed.

And who they catch shall never wake,
But are sent dreadful to their wake,
Absolve your sins before you sleep,
Or hear your hollow widow's weep.

Decaying bodies renew soil,
The resolution of your toil,
The sun refreshed breaks dawn again,
Alas the cycle does not end. The Seventh Circle Website