Hvad nu, hvis Tina Dickow ikke sang om varmt sand (eller hvad den sang nu handler om), men om en fejlslagen lovecraftiansk dæmonpåkaldelse (findes de mon som andet end fejlslagne?)? Så havde sangen nok heddet Dead Gods. Scrawls on the floor And you spoke a dead language Opened a door And you called upon anguish I took a good look at you I knew there was nothing I could do Just stood there and screamed at you What could I do?…

Blackbird, hvis nu Beatles have været lidt mere til Lovecraft: Dead Birds   Dead birds screaming in the black of night Ttake these broken words and learn the cries All your life You were only waiting for the dread stars to be right Dead birds screaming in the black of night Go to the sunken isle and learn to see All your life You were only waiting for Cthulhu to be free Iä Iä Iä Iä, Black goat of the wood with a thousand young Iä Iä Iä Iä, Black goat of the wood with a thousand young Dead birds screaming in the black of night Take these broken words and learn the cries All your life You were only waiting for the dread stars to be right You were only waiting for the dread stars to be right You were only waiting for the dread stars to be right…