You Must Not Stay Inside This House

This is the story of a place that used to be the Native's home

We took their land, gunned them down, and now this land we own

With travelers came the dreaded smallpox disease

And the Native Americans; with no vaccines

Buried them all, inside of our mass graves

We hope that there they all stay

A few centuries later, houses are built on the land we filled

The foundation was made over Native soil, on top of its very own hill

The homestead creaked, the doors all squeaked, the house was cursed with sin

But little Sally's parents tried to make her happy; said it was just the wind

When she lays in her bed, and tries to just rest, she hears a voice of clear duress

"You must not stay inside this house, or to Hell you will be sent!"

No one believes her, it was her imagination, she was alone in her fear

You must not stay inside this house, or your flesh, it will sear!"

When she tried to sleep, she could feel a creep, stalking into her room

Black hands darker than shadows,from her window, came to construct her doom

It reached over and grabbed her, she was sure it was over, when she heard a fine whisper

"You must not stay inside this house, or your skin will be covered in blisters!"

It jumped out the window, Sally in hands, and took her away from the house

As she looked back, she could not believe what she saw, she squeaked just like a mouse

Looking out from her window, a man in a red suit, standing in front of the fire

This was the thing that had come to take Sally down into his hellish spire