The sun sets at last, sliding slowly and silently down

'Low the horizon in the west, where a small house lies...



The puppet-man is ending his workday, as the starlight peak through the 

clouds

He's worked all day and says goodnight to his dolls before he close the door

He lives alone in this house, and it's his home and a way of living

Though he thought he knew all the secrets of his house, there's more...



'Cause tonight... the puppets are roaming the room

In spite... of being creatures of iron and wood

They live as well as you and I

Though driven by other forces inside

And tonight the creator's biggest pride

Will make his way through the door and charge to take the puppet-man's life



Now the doll runs through the living-room

And he's hiding in the dimly faded gloom

Now he's approaching the bed

And won't leave until the body is dead



But the creator awakes before the doll can fulfill the task

And he's paralyzed in amazement as he sees his hand-made mask

Of the horrifying devil he made

Once so many years ago

And he cannot even scream as the knife

Rips through his throat



He'll never again be put back on that shelf

"Kill the flesh! Kill the flesh!" screaming to himself

The doll is standing above the puppet-maker's corpse

The devil-mask covered in blood and gore

Silently standing, looking down

With the dripping knife still in his hand



Now he turns and he sees the door

He's tasted blood and is thirsty for more

The rain is cleansing his mask as he runs through the night alone

He's shaking in tension as he's heading for the town.



'Cause tonight... the puppets are killing in town

And the villagers are lying in bloodstained nighting-gowns

They are immortal and cannot die

And tonight the creator's biggest pride

Will run into the world and try to take mortal men's life



He's hunting at night. Watch out for open windows

He's hunting at night. Perhaps you should stay inside?

He's hunting at night.