There's death in the air tonight,
and it's coming to take you, thick like smoke
that is leaking from the rusty faucet
of laughing ghosts,
who have known it all too well,
who can feel if flowing through their veins,
tingling like a swarm of flies,
taking over where blood once was.
Take a deep breath
and let it out,
don't allow it to touch your lungs
or you might find yourself screaming,
tearing your skin apart,
only to maybe be able to take them out.
The night has called them from below,
and now you hear death whispering ,
whispering,
embracing you with their angel-like wings.
You thought you'd run,
but you don't want to.
And the coldness suddenly feels like home.