Songs made of whispers
Silent screams, like a choral of the dead
Needles prick the softest skin
And the breeze screams bloodlust

These eyes gazing over the hilltops, burning red
The night skies seem to follow me
Blanketing me with crowds of grey and black
The crowd of the damned screams

Eyes shown red, raise the dead
Eyes shown red, raise the dead
Eyes shown red, raise the dead

The breeze screaming
Over the whispers in the dark
Setting the leaves in sway
Hanging there like a body from the rafters
Smiling back at me

Eyes shown red, raise the dead
Eyes shown red, raise the dead
Eyes shown red, raise the dead

They wait in eager circles for me
To stagger into the darkness
These images that I have seen
They still burn inside of me
They still burn inside of me
They still burn in me