[absolutely no singin] [no autotune] [no melodic chorus] [Verse 1] Black coat, back road, lamp posts flicker, Mad bloke, cracked code, hands move quicker, Night shift, knife-edge, mind gets twisted, White mist, eyes red, something just whispered. I hear click-clack feet in the pitch-black passage, Quick maths, zig-zag, skip past traffic, Brick walls breathe when the street gets static, Six sharp shadows in synchronized patterns. Cold in the corridor, corner gets narrower, Floorboards talk and the wallpaper follows ya, Four doors, all of 'em boarded and bolted up, One more knock and the whole bloody floor erupts. Tongue tied, one time, run through the rundown, Sun died, midnight, blood moon sundown, Hush now, bus route cut through ghost town, Touch that rusted gate, hear the lock go clunk-clown. [Hook] Something in the dark keeps calling my name, Something in the walls keeps feeding the flame, Footsteps behind me, I know they’re close, Turn round twice but I’m chasing a ghost. [Verse 2] Dead-end estate where the street signs stutter, Red lens glare through a rain-drain gutter, Ten men said that the basement’s empty, Then ten men vanished by quarter past twenty. Tick-tock, wristwatch, time went backward, Big lock, chain snapped, door swung awkward, Lip-lock syllables spit like switchblades, Quick phrase, six ways, clipped in fifth gear. Creeping and peeking, repeating the sequence, Breathing gets deeper, the ceiling starts speaking, “Leave if you’re leaving,” it whispers in rhythm, But every exit leads straight to the kitchen. Kitchen light flicks with a sick little pattern, Three short flashes, then six in a fraction, Cryptic arithmetic etched in the plaster, Add up the numbers, they spell out disaster. [Hook] Something in the dark keeps calling my name, Something in the walls keeps feeding the flame, Footsteps behind me, I know they’re close, Turn round twice but I’m chasing a ghost. [Verse 3] Now I’m knee-deep deep in the sleep-deprived madness, Teeth-grit rhythm with a beat-box panic, Cheap trick spectres keep creeping past me, Three quick breaths then the room turns nasty. Backspin language, cracked-jaw cadence, Black mass shadows with bad vibrations, Rattle that radiator, tap that table, Pattern gets faster, unstable cable. Red room, dead tune, bassline bending, Head spins, pen moves, sentence extending, Every multisyllable circles the ceiling, Verbal exorcism, murderous metre. Quick little tongue-twist, twist till the tongue slips, “Six sick spirits sit stitching up drum kits,” “Grim grey ghosts grip cracked-glass goblets,” Say that three times when the whole room’s haunted. No sleep, no peace, dawn won’t save me, Road looks normal but the road acts shady, Sun comes up and the nightmare goes, Till I hear one knock from inside my clothes. [Hook] Something in the dark keeps calling my name, Something in the walls keeps feeding the flame, Footsteps behind me, I know they’re close, Turn round twice but I’m chasing a ghost. [END]
