Trance Called Superstition

You're in a trance called superstition
Collecting and believing the voices from the past created by lesser men,
never forgetting their names
Every blinking eyelid holds a dream.

I know that you can see shadows
but this time I think you're mistaken
And when the night has gone badly
and headlights are screaming at me
I have one more question for you -
What is it you think you see?

I have one more question for you -
What is it you think you see?