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Hark! the nameless cultists sing, ``Glory to our dreaming King,
Deep beneath the ocean waves, dreaming in his wat'ry grave.
Soon the stars will all be right, usher in eternal night!
When Cthulhu comes to reign, things here 'bouts won't be the same!''
Hark! the namesless cultists sing, ``Glory to our dreaming King!''
Cthulhu whose name strikes fear, speaks to those whose souls can hear:
Late at night an artist dreams, wakes up with an awful scream.
Then in clay his visions mold, pretty outre so I'm told.
Visions of a scene from Hell, near impossible to sell.
Hark! the nameless cultists sing, ``Glory to
our dreaming King!''
Hark! the Great One's Priestly Son, Hail or you will be undone.
Death and pain to most he brings, Ris'n with darkness in His wings.
Waked at last no more to lie, proof that death itself may die,
Born to crush the human race, wipe them out and leave no trace.
Hark! the nameless cultists sing, ``Glory to our dreaming King!''