The Well
the well it looms like a stone-whit ghoulbeneath the old oak tree
and when it's host the is full
it brings such dread to me
what makes it such a feindish sight
what makes my soul quake in the night
what lies beneath so dark and cold
some ghastly tale thats gone untold
phantom notions haunt my mind
and leave me searching for a sign
but nothing comes except the fear
thar floods my heart as I draw near
as the moon hangs low in the winter skies
I smell the blood and hear the cries
I taste the very stench of death
I wake in time to catch my breath
I run to look beneath the tree
it seems I've set this evil free
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