You Are Alone.
You think you're alone in this place, so barren of human contact once you step into House's Fog World. The clouds never seem to let up and you can barely see three feet ahead of you. That's where they hide. Who are they? you might ask. That's for you to look under the van and find out. Flashlights need not to be turned on; it's always a cool afternoon there.
There are boarded-up doors and hallways that lead to nowhere. Here and there, as your feet reluctantly take you where you need to go, you see some splashes of rusted blood but don't you worry, Hell's just a few moments away. He always leaves you puzzles; his mind doesn't allow for straight answers...nor spared limbs. He's watching you out of the mirror but he won't allow you to see him just yet. Therapy has commenced and only he knows the safe word.
Did you hear that? No, it's just the whisper in your ear...the whisper that made him initiate the process. Monsters? There are no monsters, you silly person; only physical manifestations of your subconscious.
Either way, the drive to survive is driving you into rather unsavory places, such as a crematorium, an abandoned supermarket where the food is festering. You hungry? Your first meal of the day should be a helping of lead, you sick bastard. If you're here, you're a bad person...or maybe House is being too quick to judge. Maybe you have a secret you can't tell or a mind that needs sorting out. Formalities; the end results are the same. Does anyone miss you yet?
You might find yourself overwhelmed with keys and trivia that you never should learn. Oh right, there's also the surreal living room where everything is on the walls and the morgue where mermaids have been experimented on. Did you know that the human brain is nothing more than a glorified circuit? Remember that.
House finally makes his presence known but it isn't good. He's here but he doesn't speak; his mouth's been sewn shut. That air raid siren's not good either...everything has an underside and you're indubitably welcome to the tearing Hell. Is it hot or is it cold? Is it covered in gore or is it just damp? Welcome to your worst dreams.
This is the reason you are here. Now, see the crime or the secret in full color. Tell me, was it worth committing your sin? Did you intend on escaping the truth? Hell's pretty fucked up. TELL HIM WHAT YOU DID, HE CAN'T JUDGE YOU...What was that sound? Oh, that's just your mistake incarnate. You have two option: kill or be killed. Does it really matter? The cycle will repeat itself until you die or...
If you did learn your lesson, just when you think Death has your number, you're back where you started. You should have a new lease on life! If not...well, cleanup crews are quite a bother to find these days.
There are boarded-up doors and hallways that lead to nowhere. Here and there, as your feet reluctantly take you where you need to go, you see some splashes of rusted blood but don't you worry, Hell's just a few moments away. He always leaves you puzzles; his mind doesn't allow for straight answers...nor spared limbs. He's watching you out of the mirror but he won't allow you to see him just yet. Therapy has commenced and only he knows the safe word.
Did you hear that? No, it's just the whisper in your ear...the whisper that made him initiate the process. Monsters? There are no monsters, you silly person; only physical manifestations of your subconscious.
Either way, the drive to survive is driving you into rather unsavory places, such as a crematorium, an abandoned supermarket where the food is festering. You hungry? Your first meal of the day should be a helping of lead, you sick bastard. If you're here, you're a bad person...or maybe House is being too quick to judge. Maybe you have a secret you can't tell or a mind that needs sorting out. Formalities; the end results are the same. Does anyone miss you yet?
You might find yourself overwhelmed with keys and trivia that you never should learn. Oh right, there's also the surreal living room where everything is on the walls and the morgue where mermaids have been experimented on. Did you know that the human brain is nothing more than a glorified circuit? Remember that.
House finally makes his presence known but it isn't good. He's here but he doesn't speak; his mouth's been sewn shut. That air raid siren's not good either...everything has an underside and you're indubitably welcome to the tearing Hell. Is it hot or is it cold? Is it covered in gore or is it just damp? Welcome to your worst dreams.
This is the reason you are here. Now, see the crime or the secret in full color. Tell me, was it worth committing your sin? Did you intend on escaping the truth? Hell's pretty fucked up. TELL HIM WHAT YOU DID, HE CAN'T JUDGE YOU...What was that sound? Oh, that's just your mistake incarnate. You have two option: kill or be killed. Does it really matter? The cycle will repeat itself until you die or...
If you did learn your lesson, just when you think Death has your number, you're back where you started. You should have a new lease on life! If not...well, cleanup crews are quite a bother to find these days.