There is a place on the edge of town,
It's small, it's dark, it will bring you down.
People go there when the clock strikes twelve,
Never again will you see them alive.
It is an old hospital,
For the asylum seekers,
Abandoned and neglected
Just like the reapers,
People will tell you of the screams that can be heard,
From all of the patients that died here.
You will want to run,
But the walls will close,
Keeping you there,
In the asylums doors,
But don't be scared, and don't be alarmed,
You've joined the group,
Of mentally harmed.
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 6:08 PM UTC
There is a place on the edge of town,
It's small, it's dark, it will bring you down.
People go there when the clock strikes twelve,
Never again will you see them alive.
It is an old hospital,
For the asylum seekers,
Abandoned and neglected
Just like the reapers,
People will tell you of the screams that can be heard,
From all of the patients that died here.
You will want to run,
But the walls will close,
Keeping you there,
In the asylums doors,
But don't be scared, and don't be alarmed,
You've joined the group,
Of mentally harmed.
