Pitch black is the cloudless sky,
longing for some light...
as the gate of the house opens,
my hair stands with fright...
I remember being here before,
but can't recall why....
was I looking for something
or did I just want to die?
Many a brave have come here,
to the House of the Dead...
no one has ever returned alive,
making way to their final bed...
As I walk through the gate,
the truth dawns on me...
the house lies behind,
the haunted town I see...
Its time for me to feed my thirst,
I can already smell some fresh blood...
as I walk into the town,
I drip some of my grave's mud...