The night turned black and the air turned cold
I could feel it in my breath and down my bones
The roads looked like cars were extinct
And the only meat her were the hookers on the beat
But as I wandered through this urban graveyard
I was kickin' up leaves like a frustrated schoolboy
But I never noticed that house upon that hill, before
Under the lamplight so tall
The gate for the garden, it was missin'
They must not think must for security
But mind you by the size of those brambles
Intruders that probably come, probably scramble
But I find a rusty old pair of shears
They must have been a bastard in their day
So I cut and cut and cut, so it was the door I could see
And not these dead flowers now lookin' at me
The telephone box that let out a lonely need cry
I picked it up and said hello
But at the other end of the line, a voice I had never heard so low
Warned me that it was haunted and that I should go
Enter now if you must
This house is haunted with the verglas dust
The myth of number eight is written here in stone
Enter in a group or alone
The night turned black and the air turned cold
I could feel it in my breath and down my bones
The dust was bitten once again
And this is where the story ends
