The face at the door is a demon, a god
He smiles through stitches, his stare rather odd
The face at the door is a cruel, silent being
Yet, people are calm, and the children aren't fleeing
Quiet yourself, for you're the only one
Crying for help at the point of a gun
Learn how to fly, rather, learn how to fall,
The face at the door... well... there's no face at all.