They said about a girl, she walks through the quaint town.
She lingers on their people, follows them around.
She has pale skin, red lips, too.
You haven’t seen her by any chance, have you?
She died years ago, drowned in the river.
When she walks by you, you’re guaranteed to shiver
I thought I saw the girl, walking through the quaint town.
She didn’t look at me, she kept looking down.
Seeing her is scary, somehow daunting
I’ve heard what they say
They call it the Haunting
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