Spiders on the carpet

They're hiding in the attic
they're hiding in my brain
it's such a big cliche
but i'm going insane

There's spiders on the carpet
but on second thoughts
it was all a misperception
They have gone up in smoke

What's that noise
from the tv-set
Is it broken or are
dead people trying to connect?

The hallway's chilly
did I close the door?
hopefully it's someone else
they are looking for

What's the point of logic
when you can't separate
the fiction from the facts
Anything could be out there
but you will never know
if your mind put you on the wrong track

We don't kill
but of fear you might kill yourself
Just wait until you hear us
and start crying out for help
We laugh our heads off
at the ones that think we're real
That evil spirits
are the coldness that you feel

What's the point of logic
when you can't separate
the fiction from the facts
Anything could be out there
but you will never know
if your mind put you on the wrong track