Can You Hear Our Ancestors Call?

Can You Hear Our Ancestors Call?

Can you hear our ancestors call,

When midnight shadows climb the wall?

Their voices drift through mist and rain,

And whisper names we knew again.

Across the moors where cold winds blow,

Where ancient graves lie far below,

The footsteps of the dead are heard,

Though not a living soul has stirred.

A candle flickers, doors swing wide,

A ghostly figure stands outside,

Its hollow eyes look through the gloom,

Then slowly vanish from the room.

Beneath the earth, beneath the stone,

They lie in darkness, flesh and bone,

Yet something restless walks the night,

Beyond the reach of mortal sight.

They call from centuries long gone by,

Their mournful voices rise and sigh,

Through twisted trees and ruined halls,

Their shadows dance upon the walls.

A woman's weeping fills the air,

You turn around, but no one's there,

A freezing hand brushes your face,

Then disappears without a trace.

Are they the souls who came before,

Still searching for an open door?

Or memories that refuse to die,

Beneath the cold and moonlit sky?

So when the clock strikes twelve tonight,

And stars are hidden from your sight,

Don't answer when you hear them call,

For they may come to claim us all.