It’s beginning to look a lot like fish-men
Everywhere I go;
From the minute I got to town
And started to look around
I thought these ill-bred people’s gillslits showed.
I’m beginning to hear a lot of fish-men
Right outside my door,
As I try to escape in fright
To the moonlit Innsmouth night
I can hear some more.

They speak with guttural croaks and to hear them provokes
profound desire to flee
Their eyes never blink and quite frankly they stink
Like a carcass washed up from the sea.

I wish I’d paid attention to that crazy [bad word] man.
He tried to warn me all about old Marsh’s Deep One clan.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Fish-men
Everywhere I go;
They can dynamite Devil Reef,
but that’ll bring no relief,
Y’ha N’thlei is deeper than they know.
I’ll continue to see a lot of fish-men
That I guarantee.
For the fish-man I really fear
is the one who’s in the mirror
And he looks like me.
He looks just like me.