The Hand That Turns The Lock

Midnight hums a warning, whispers turn to rust,

Footsteps fade like echoes in the hollow of your trust.

I'm the thorn in your shadow, the itch beneath your skin,

Every lie you bury, I dig it up again.

Moonlight paints the alley where your secrets start to bleed,

I'm the hound that laps the silence, starved but never freed.

You can bar the windows, douse the lantern's glow,

But the dark knows where you tremble-I know what you know.

Chasing shadows, I'm the fever in your veins,

A hunger with no mercy, just the weight of these chains.

You run like a river, but I'm the undertow,

Darlin', you can't outrun what the night won't let go.

Clocks all stop their ticking, the world holds its breath,

Your pulse is my lullaby, my lullaby of death.

I'll carve my name in embers, let the ash confess-

Every step you take is one step closer to my mess.

The streetlamp's gone to weeping, the wind sings "amen,"

I'll be the hand that turns the lock...

When you come home again.