Voices in the wind are talking, the poet knows the dead are stalking, shaking in his bed, the night sweats soak him, choking!!! through the dark and dismal night. The owl hoots, the dog is barking, voices chatter, chatter, chatter, the poet screams!!!!! what is the matter?, The dead wish that they were still living, they talk about family they're missing, wishing!!! wishing!!!! wishing!!!!! wishing!!!!!! that this life they were still living, they're stuck in between in purgatory, forced to tell there earthly story, talking, talking, talking, talking,.... The poet wishes they'd stop stalking.