They hide in dreams,
Those twisted faceless things.
Waiting for you to close your eyes and feed
On your sleeping visage.
They lurk in shadows.
Their alabaster skin and albino glow
Covered by the gray of nightmare's woe.
Waiting to steal your image.
And if by chance you wake at night,
Expect to see the cold, contorted sight
Of a pallid thief looming over your bed.
The Face Takers have come to take your head.