Muzyka: Mustaine, Ellefson
Słowa: Mustaine

Sitting up late at night
I tiptoe through the darkness
Cold as hell, black as spades
Aware of my immediate surroundings
In my place, I escape
Up into my hideout
Hiding from everyone, my friends all say,
Dave, you're mental any way, hey!
Drift into a deeper state
I stalk the cobwebbed stairways
Dirt grits beneath my feet
The stair creaks, I precariously sneak, yeah!

Hypnosis guides my hand
I slip-slide through the walkways
Sit in Granny's rocking chair
Memories are whirling by, yeah!
Reminiscing in the attic
Lucretia waits impatiently
Cobwebs make me squint
The cobra, so eloquently glints
Moonbeams surge through the sky
The crystal ball is energized
Surely that, like the cat
Waiting, Lucretia rocks away

Solo - Friedman
Solo - Mustaine