Floorboards groan beneath my step Dust rises I held my breath I found her name carved in the chair Older than the paint still there She said she'd only be a while I watched the stairs, recalled her smile Photographs spilled across the floor Her face from years before Perfume of the dead still haunts these halls Sweet poison clings to them all I turn, expecting her return Only her scent remains A portrait dated eighteen-ninety-three Same eyes, same mouth, staring at me One from the war, one from the flood Unchanged by time, untouched by blood Names beneath the tables, lovers gone Each left a note: "I won't be long" I breathe it in I know that smell She walked these rooms She walks them still Perfume of the dead still haunts these halls The same sweet poison clings to them all I turn, expecting her return Only her perfume remains The study mirror shows their faces Dead men's eyes in familiar places Each waited for her by the stairs Each left a ring and vanished there Cold fingers crawl along my neck I watch the stairs, expect her yet How many men have called her name? How many men have known her name The house remembers every vow Her scent survives them all somehow Perfume of the dead I wait for her Perfume of the dead She never left Perfume of the dead The photographs grow warm to touch I hold them close, I feel too much Soft footsteps cross the floor above I turn to find what once was love The scent grows stronger through the years I'm the next to disappear Perfume of the dead still haunts these halls The same sweet poison clings to them all I turn, expecting her return Only her perfume remains Perfume of the dead Only her scent remains Perfume of the dead I never left
