He walked around,
this place was deserted,
this was a ghost town.
He walked in the mist,
the mist seemed to be the only thing alive,
the civilisation was missed.
The abandoned houses,
they stared at the mist with no one behind.
He came in touch with his past,
so far away from his present life,
that town didn't last.
The mist,
the cold,
the whole thing was eerie,
the town was watched by the moon,
the black road,
the road to no where,
the silent ghosts.
The wild scary trees,
the place,
the mist,
it's all lost grace.
Picture from the net - ( http://images.google.com/hosted/life/l?imgurl=784fe7
482306e37e&q=man%20walking%20in%20the%20fog&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dman
%2Bwalking%2Bin%2Bthe%2Bfog%26um%3D1%26hl%3De
n%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-GB:official%26tbs%3Disch:1 )
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Groove to the era