Our God lives underground.

One of many dark little nursery rhymes. This was inspired by an atmospheric indie game of the same name.

You trudge across the ice and snow,
with bare and frozen feet,
you faced the countless suffering,
with naught to drink or eat,
You see the pillars that were placed,
a circle forms around,
the trapdoor leads the way to he
who lives down underground.

The stony steps are quite pristine,
they've barely e're been used,
for those who are sent down to him
have never yet refused.
Besides, all those who tried to leave
are gone and never found,
For who would try to flee from he
who lives beneath the ground?

The darkness falls around you as
the daylight fleets to naught,
The lamp you've brought does not prevail
as well as you first thought.
But scampering and scuttling
an eerie, awful sound,
was this the fate of those who had
descended underground?

The lantern brings you comfort,
as you swing it in the deep,
The light has seemed to scare somewhat
the hidden things that creep,
And every step you've taken seems
to echo far abound,
Why is it quite so lonely
in the world beneath the ground?

The door is locked behind you
as you flee the creatures' reach,
a rusty crank and winch let out
a long, almighty screech,
an ancient iron lift ascends,
It's cable taut and wound,
It is a long way down
to see he who lives underground.

The lift creaks into action,
falling slowly down the pit
Within the long abyss he lurks,
So close to where you sit.
A light shines right beneath you
with a great and awful sound,
Behold the dreadful evil
that awaits you underground.