When the dead of night strikes and the air has grown cold

A man lines dormant, sedated into a slumber

Shadows loom over him, taunting his resting body

They dare him to awaken as they watch in menace

He rises, yet his mind is at rest

I am he who walks in his sleep, gripping a dagger by my side

To take down they who dare intrude

Blood soils my hands of the many who have tried

To shake me out of this trance; none of them have survived

When the dead of night strikes and the air has grown cold

Mothers warn their children to beware the Sleepwalker

"Stay in bed, do not leave your room

For he lurks the halls of every home

Of every village in this land

Beware the Sleepwalker

"