Four and twenty deadbirds, they bleed upon the nest
There was no time for reason, they had no sign of a threat
Now it's too late, too late for me
This town will eventually take me
Too late, too late for me
This town will win

(spoken)
Through this fog they come along
Dark creatures singing a terrible song
The rest of the bar laughed at him
Only I felt my hope grow dim
They found him dead the very next day
"No more stories from him," I heard them say
We blamed bad luck for his fate
Only I felt terror so great

She and he will know
that someday all things will end

That misty night
That dismal moon
The dead search for their kin
While angels sing, in endless dark
The dead seek out sin
-Joe Romersa, Home Town