Left Over Ghost Town.

When you look out my door
you can see the fog drifting towards
The night closing in
and rain pouring down.

You can hear the howls
from the living, soon to be dead.
But by mornings all is gone.
The blood drowned by rain
all into the drains.

When you hear whispers
coming from the walls
just hum in your head
pretend to just play dead
say its all in your head.

When the insanity calls
they'll be knocking at your door
in the night to say hello.
One day you'll give up
open up.

The whispers will return,
the rain will pour harder,
and that creeping fog...

brings on the screams
whispers gone
souls flying away
souring through the midnight sky
shouting up like stars.

The memories you'll find
wont be from your lifetime
but will just seem to you like
whispers in the night.