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Something about it.
There was something about it.
Something about the way it reeked,
Of stale champagne and spoilt cheese.
There were no windows;
Eery.
Yet, I was drawn to it.
Like nails to a magnet.
I knew I was going to die.
But I went...
Something about the way it reeked,
Of stale champagne and spoilt cheese.
There were no windows;
Eery.
Yet, I was drawn to it.
Like nails to a magnet.
I knew I was going to die.
But I went...
