[ TSC ] Creeping Death

  
Fog rollin in, likes of which never seen before  
traveling against wind, quietly approaching shore  
There's something within it I can't quite put my finger on  
as if an infected wound gone too long without medicine  
   
And those persistent rappings at the door . . .  
   
I beg of you, don't let it in  
   
Here, now, are we to be held accountable? Atone  
for sins of others buried without consciences?  
Is this a Fate of our own making breaking against the hull?  
Can we be born into this world cursed souls?  
   
So many questions as the night unfolds  
   
Until dawn, we're wrecks upon the shoals  
while fright condenses into a marauding unknown  
reaping its toll