A cold wind blows, and an old door grows, enter what you thought was gone,
Things that should have never been, songs that never have been sung,
Dark corners that the light has never seen, things that never will be green,
Walkways of the dead and forgotten, ominous and deranged,
Death and pain, when the new souls all arrange.
Burning thoughts and memories, torching words and trees,
Blinding things and making them strange, the debt never paid,
More thoughts initialize, scorching through black halls of the past,
When a door opens, you begin to see that all is gone,
You don’t look much like yourself, when the light turns on.