They're kissed by the breath of the breeze, of the air
And the sliding doors slide, but there's nobody there
There's nobody there; is it a fault or the breeze?
That opens and closes them with occasional ease
There's somebody there, they're sat on reception
She laughs to herself about the harmless deception
'They're opening and closing and all by themselves'
She calls out to a non-visible somebody else
She's transfixed by the doors, unaware of the silence
From the back office, where there's no one in finance
It's just her and the doors and the lights of the foyer
Illuminating the void, where there's naught to annoy her
The sliding doors slide, they're opening and closing
What to do next is the question with which she is posing
There's a whirr of a motor, of an electrical manner
Clearly heard without the usual vociferous clamour
They are there; they're morphing like mist and approaching reception
But she's as blind as a dupe to their transient deception
'They're not doing it now, they've stopped by themselves'
She calls out to the non-visible somebody else
She's still watching the doors, when her skin starts to crawl
The temperature drops and her mind's in a squall
She glimpses macabre reflections in the glass of the foyer
All briefly illuminated, but enough to appal her
She screams herself hoarse, she shatters the silence
Scrambles to the office, but there's no one in finance
She seals the door, slamming it shut
Holding the handle and she jams with a foot
They are there, they have come, the dead who were the living
And she cries as she succumbs, as she yields, as she gives in
'The door it's opening; and it's opened by ourselves'
She whispers in the void of the dark, for there's nobody else
They're kissed by a breath that is death and not the breeze of the air
For those caught alone the sliding doors slide, 'cause there's somebody there
There's somebody there; it's not a fault or even the belligerent breeze
That opens and closes them with such ominous ease
