Poke, poke, the eyes must go,
Into the abyss where the lost souls flow.
It’s Friday, Friday, a chilling delight,
In the silence of shadows, we welcome the night.

With fingers like daggers, the vision must fade,
A ritual of sorrow, a masquerade played.
The laughter of echoes, a haunting refrain,
As the world turns to darkness, we welcome the pain.