Behold the fifth quarter
A district obscured and forgotten
Home of the restless shades
A heavy downpour
Waters both loathing and revulsion
All the strange people who dwell here
Human-like phantoms not born of woman
They drift through life with no will of their own
Animated by an invisible current
There is no one alive capable of laughing
The innocent times are long time past
Walls speak softly through vibration, cracks and smear
Old images keep surfacing like ominous sigils
Noises and murmurs
Withered laments
What an unexpected guest
This is the way he behaves when he feels at home
His book was speaking to me
Just as dreams can speak
A crown of red wood, the impregnation of souls
Words streamed from the unseen mouth
Took on life and came towards me
Alive yet without echoes
I can feel them drifting through me
Alive yet without echoes
I can feel them drifting through my very soul
Darkness has the upper hand
A firm grip on every corner, every street
Them houses outside
Worn stone and dripping wood
Emit incoherent howls
Nothing but a mere whisper
Crosses the threshold of perception.