Ghost of a Sound

There's a whisper on the wind And my head turns As though you have called my name But there is only the wind

Priceless

I'd sell my soul But it was stolen From me long before

He stood against the brick In the shadows Lurking like a rebel

You summoned me from the depths of hell And then condemned me For the very nature that you asked for

She pushed her out the window Through the glass panes And as she stared down

It's a grim day When the reaper comes Regardless of weather

Dig a mass grave There will be A massacre tonight

Demons come crawling From the gates of Hell In hoards

Plants die everywhere she walks To match her depressive state Like the manifestation Of her own personal rain cloud

You're a clever one To make it this far without Someone noticing