| There was a clubhouse, only kept special guests in Place much darker than the room I rest in Creepy spot where the dust covers the floor
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| And some fishing rods is hanging on the door
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| Painting on the wall of stick figures
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| That’s rumored to walk out the frame and get bigger
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| Where the imagination runs wild, like who’s creeping
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| Neighbors are acres away and probably sleeping
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| Wind dusting blowing makes the sounds of ghost
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| Thieves in the room makes you feel really close
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| Remind me of this late night thriller
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| I watched the other night, they never caught the killer
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| Bats thats flying in every direction
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| Got to stay low and roll with the protection
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| Visitors that often stay for the summer
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| They heart beat, like the roll of a drummer
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| I can feel the presence all around me The scene isn’t funny, I got those chills
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| I can feel the presence all around me The scene isn’t funny, it’s all too real
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| The room was full, the sky was black, the bathroom
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| Hear a crack, wolves roam in packs
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| In the dining room, the chair rock back and forth
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| Pull the table cloth to the sun, where it fell off
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| Cups and glass plates hit the floor and shattered
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| Three Blind Mice heard the noise and scattered
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| Front door was open, welcome mat was soaking
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| The blood of Christ, plus all four locks were broken
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| In the backyard, two dogs would growl
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| And barking, the eyes and they teeth was sparkling
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| I started to sweat, they started to get closer
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| Then I saw a face on a wanted poster
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| And outlaw who stay with an empty hoster
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| Used to shoot mugs of beer off the coaster
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| Make a room to turn the light switch on Chump up, my jacket was torn
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| Pages from the photo album, make a return
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| Wax drip from the candle as it slowly burn
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| Then the lights had started blinking, as if the power was gone
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| The room become foggy, as if the shower was on Words was written in the steam on the mirror
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| In bold print, couldn’t have been any clearer
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| Teeth that was giving out sounds without a picture
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| And a voice kept saying «I'mma getcha» |