The moon guides my way back home. It's late as I walk alone. These woods are not inviting at this time of night, So I pick up the pace. In the air, I hear voices everywhere. And it is so dark, That I can't make out a face. So I reach for my knife as the creatures of the night let me know they're here, Won't do me no good, ' cause what's in these woods is that which I can't kill. Well I sense something is about, So I gather up my courage and I take a look around. I look to my left and then to my right. I should have never looked behind. I run home as fast as I can. I don't want to have to ever look back again.