Wrong turn. I learn late in the game
Ask myself why it is that I even came
Call upon my will, skill, feel break free
Or a black glad trash bag is my destiny
In the last house on the left

Pounding on the beams
Creams no one can hear
Every breath is pain but equally dear
Running for my life
Knife stalking the pulse
Heart beating, bleeding
Leaving trails on the floor
In the last house on the left

Screaming deep inside this gutted room
A reeking reminder of a molded past
The killer's shadow waits
And fills the crack beneath the door
And pulls on the rusted latch

Lips numb, dumb, brain locate the pain
Broke leg. run, stunned, shock of the sprain
Senses slowly fading
Wading waist high in webs
The smell of blood and brass
Crass smell on my hands
In the last house on the left