Where to begin...
how about the weird things that occur
when they're in
Like the voices i hear about murder and treason
and the faces i see at the window at the end of the dead season
And the screams i hear down in the basement
and at christmas what are there presents?
They knock at my window late at night
Asking for rope and maybe a knife
What about the crawling around i hear from the attic
and the weird sparks from their house like its static
As I am writing this poem at my desk
They are knocking, trying their best
To get in and rip my head right off
I found out their secret and with a cough
I blew my cover and now they're here
Trying to be nice but i can tell theirs no cheer
And in the last line I am hoping to tell you
The secret that i found out......