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A soft silence echoes through the small ghost town,

Only the wind whispers through this place, so run down.

Boarded up windows,

Broken in glass,

Dirt covered porch steps,

Dead bushes, dead grass,

And a soft silence echoes through the town.

In a house on the corner, memories still lay,

As if somebody, somewhere, would come back someday.

Pictures still hanging

On walls by themselves,

Glass figurines

Collecting dust on the shelves,

In a house where memories lay.

There is a well in the center that now has run dry.

The streets are abandoned, but nobody knows why.

Open signs hanging

In windows of stores,

Welcome mats sitting

In front of the doors,

And a well in the center has run dry.

A soft silence echoes through the small ghost town,

Everything is still in place, but no one is around.

Ruffled covers

Still sit on the bed,

Boxes and letters

Still unopened, unread,

And a soft silence echoes through the town.