They come from the Woods

The stars are gone, no moon tonight
Darkness blankets the woods
Phantoms bleeding with fright
Glowing eyes so vicious and red
Surrounded by unmarked graves
The forest is owned by the dead
Temperatures fall, warm night becomes chill
The touch of boney fingers
We all start to feel ill
Through the trees fear has a face
The eerie smirk of a man not there
Our hearts begin to race
Ghost consume the air, its time to run
No one remembers the way out
Our time is now done

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