If You Listen

A house stands upon a shady hill

Where nothing stirs even the insects are still

You may think it´s only the wind that whispers in your ear

But you´d be wrong there is evil here

The soulless house beckons you to its door

With every step your heart beats more and more

Inside it is cold and empty void of light

The atmosphere repugnant with anger and spite

On the walls are family portraits dusty and torn

Ripped apart by jealousy and scorn

The man of the house he distrusted his wife

So one evening he ended her with a kitchen knife

For he thought she loved another

His own dear older brother

So in a rage he went into her room

Stood above her in the darkened gloom

He smiled and slashed at her throat

Blood staining her pure white petticoat

When he had done

He walked down the hall to his son

Again he raised his blade

The boy could not be saved

As he watched his blood run red

The father screamed clutching his head

Falling to the floor in horror he took his own life

Mixing his blood with that of his sons´ and wife

A hundred years have passed by

Still if you listen you can hear him cry

A spirit of a man pleading for salvation

Forever trapped in his own damnation  

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© M.Withers/M.Strudwick . All rights reserved.

Both the name The EriduSerpent/EriduSerpent

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