Lyin’ on the bed,
dreamin’ of nightmares I’ve never met.
A glittering show of blood,
a scene that surely won’t be done.

Tick-Tackin’ is the clock,
I just don’t care about those eerie sounds beyond the lock,
whispers full of black,
like someone is trying to enchant a cat.

Earin’ knock-knocks on the door,
Death itself is down the hall,
it’s close enough to make me scared,
but far enough I barely care.

Sparkin’ is the future,
even if I already see some ugly failures.
I’m afraid, but I don’t hide,
so why should I even think that despair that’s no longer mine?