It may be my imagination And of course I'm prone to exaggeration But in the moth eaten gloom of my shabby room I saw the strangest manifstation One possible explaination is that it was merely a trick of the light But that's little consolation 'Cause it's gotten so that I can't sleep at night! What Presence?! Steppin' out 'neath a harvest moon, steppin' out to the strains of this self-same tune and it's screaming in my ears