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 

The breeze 
Screaming over the whispers in the dark 
Setting the leaves in sway 
Hanging there like a body from the raftors 
Smiling 
Back at me 

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