Walking down a cold dark lane
You can feel the eyes all around you,
Hoping you show signs of weakness
But hoping to cause some mischief too.
There are long skinny shapes
That slithers along the walls,
And follow just behind you
As you walk down long, dark halls.
In this place of horror,
Who knows what lies in waiting?
But you should be weary
For the ground may start to shaking.
Worms crawling, slithering, sliding,
Bats watching, waiting, flying,
Spiders hiding in corners hoping
Watching for pray that will soon be dying.
There are spirits watching,
Making maidens cry,
And then taunting
Them to fly.
All of this is ever going,
In places haunted ever more,
The maiden’s silver dresses flowing,And the darkness floating across the floor.