Thick fog grows around the house,
The dead rise from their grave
Their spirits are starting to rouse
What could it be that these spirits crave?
It might be the blood of the living
Or to eat the fruit of the land
Maybe they aren’t forgiving
We who are alive don’t understand.
Should we stay and fight or run for our lives?
They draw closer to the house
Stay and see who survives.
Be a man and not a mouse.
The truth is coming, this I dread
For these spirits don’t know that they are dead

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