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Shh now, it�s late as hell

Don�t wake her pretty head.

Lady passed out mere hours ago

Escaping from the living dead.



Each night the threat returns

Of scarred faces and pale skin

Appearing in the antique mirror,

Lurking souls with unforgivable sin.



And when Lady crawls in bed

She pulls the sheets close to her chest,

Closes her eyes and turns off the light

And subsequently holds her breath.



She�s waiting to feel their distant touch,

Waiting for the pungent stare

Of the souls that linger late at night.

Lady waits when nothing�s there.



The smell of cigarettes and alcohol

Linger in the air.

Lady�s drunk as hell tonight,

But she�s still waiting for a scare.



Bloody Mary makes her shiver.

Ghostly visions cause a fright.

Anne Boleyn without her head

Terrifies Lady deep in the night.



Eventually she falls asleep

And escapes her nightly fear,

But every night when she lays in bed

Her childhood nightmare reappears.