There’s a man who enjoys all your meat as he dines, which gives thrills and sends chills running down your spine. Also a woman haunted by an animal’s scream looking for a man who has a hose and a basket of cream.

My gaze is deadly, my hair’s alive, One look at me, you won’t survive. Who am I, feared across the lands, With fate controlled by mortal hands?

A tale says I cost a giant commander his head, another song says I travel around a watch instead I appear by a baby and shake it around, you can find me on stage or the ground I can slam you in a rough, tight place or be a souvenir from outer space

In black attire with a raspy call, guardians of Odin's hall. Onyx wings take to the sky, wisdom's watchers, they fly high.

Something each person has of their own, but Rome has many of these. For some reason. It might be long, might be short, but it exists.