The house waits high on a hill,
Thick creepers on each window sill,
Glory days of old,
Fire hearths all gone cold,
Where creeping shadows haunt them still.
Where Shadows Dwell
New verses from the dark, delivered to your inbox.
The house waits high on a hill,
Thick creepers on each window sill,
Glory days of old,
Fire hearths all gone cold,
Where creeping shadows haunt them still.
New verses from the dark, delivered to your inbox.
