We three things of Ry'leh are
Coming here from stars that mar
Confounding landscapes, forbidding lore
Fear what we have in store.
O Great Old One, dreaming dead
Speak dull thoughts to unhinged heads
Tossing, turning, but still learning
We beg for him to wake again.
Born so loathesome far from here
Where man looks it tends to blear.
Fraying thought but will endow.
He stirs right now.
O Great Old One, have we said?
Would love to put mankind to bed
Bat wings flapping, voices snapping
Softly speak of Ry'leh's end.
A tiny soul to offer, have I.
Made with love, our fear and lies
The veil is lifting, we are drifting
Cthulhu wakes, and order dies.