The black sleek shine of their car reflected the lights of a streetlamp.
It's in a newly settled road in a neighborhood.
These are newer, better, bigger houses,
But it's more quaint than it seems...

For there are people,
Hungry people.
They slowly drive, down the road, and come to a stop in front of one house.
Dark, as it seems. Lights are out, and no lights lit on the exterior.
Yet, it is night. The house owner is getting ready to sleep.

Right out of the corner of his drowsy eye, the black sleek shine of their car is caught.
He steps to the window, for full view.
He sees them watching, as the hairs raise on his back as if he were a cat; then reality hits him.

Suddenly, a screeching of tires burning the pavement breaks through the silence,
As the car races out of sight.
They may be zooming the speed of light,
But they're headed right towards the dead end.
A set of deathly screeching screams out again, this time in a u-turn.
Still going out of sight...

And It's all clear as day to him.
Why they're here. What they're watching.

Now her breath heats the window,  
Everytime there is the sound...
Of tires.