The Dead, The Living And The City

Some old press clippings, my uncle's notes, a bas-relief made of clay.
The horrors that these convey have given me much dismay.
I think I'm starting to go insane.
Strange nightmare images haunt my brain.

I'm dreaming of a dead city
Where Deep Ones swim in depths of night.
Where Cthulhu's sleeping while stars go creeping
Until the time when they are right.

I'm dreaming of a dead city
With angles Euclid wouldn't know,
That was built strange eons ago, and will [bad word] up from down below.

I'm dreaming of a dead city
Where Deep Ones swim in depths of night.
Where Cthulhu's sleeping while stars go creeping
Until the time when they are right.

I'm dreaming of a dark future [bad word] by that Three-Lobed Burning Eye;
When the Old [bad word] is nigh, and you find that death itself may die.