I felt concealed, shrouded in mist.
Whispers of unspoken thoughts too horrible to exist.
A waving man commands me closer,
deeper into the mist.
But the whispers yell unspeakable thoughts, too horrible to describe.
About how men who venture into the mist, never come out alive.
About how the waving man can't be trusted, of how meeting him was something
that you won't survive.
A light appears in the distance, as it was lit by the waving man.
You could see him much clearer now,
he was dressed in a white suit, standing next to a white van.
he was my way out here, out of the mist and the cold, driving of in this man's Sedan.
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