My home is but a terror house
Filled with the restless, walking dead
So lost and insecure that I must guide them back to bed
Their eyes are burnt and skin is veined
As the red resin on the gate
And on the stairs
The child stares
Wondering why I stay up to drink so late
Apr 30, 2011
Apr 30, 2011 at 7:25 PM UTC
My home is but a terror house
Filled with the restless, walking dead
So lost and insecure that I must guide them back to bed
Their eyes are burnt and skin is veined
As the red resin on the gate
And on the stairs
The child stares
Wondering why I stay up to drink so late
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