May father guide you through your dreams
Of golden threads and silver streams
Of times unknown and future's past
And wars that may forever last
Of one who dared to cast a spell
Of cultures caught in constant hell,
Blue boxes filled with mystery
Of soldiers and their armoury
And suits of armour poured in bronze
Of hatred and its countless spawns
But hush now sibling, don't you cry
When clouds of darkness coat the sky
You'll find your mother smiling mild
'Behold, behold, The Nightmare Child'