In the bitter cold I always dream,
Beneath a dying candle’s gleam.
I sleep,
imprisoned by violent dreams
where none can hear my silent screams.

I cry when running through my dream,
stalking for the candle’s gleam,
Yet stalked I am by what lurks in dreams;
shadow beasts
whose eyes doth gleam.

Gleaming just beneath the trees
and carried through the dusty breeze,
all collected in my dream.
The creatures growl,
They hiss, they howl,
And all their eyes they beam
At me.

The blood that boils in my dream,
Slithers through the crimson streams.
Ever bleeding from the seams,
it feeds the beasts
whose eyes doth gleam.

Crouching aloft the stewing stream,
they bathe within its scarlet steam.
Laughing in that copper cream,
they prey upon the bloody bream.

A willow weeps inside my dream.
Her tears, she seeps into the stream.
They fill a pool
Where I will find
Myself there, weeping.
Her tears are mine.

There’s saddened sighs within my dream,
I hear them cry
Although it seems
They’re spawned not by those
Whose eyes doth gleam,
But by another in my dream.

The subtle breaths bounce off the beams
of a jetty in my dream.
Out the quay
I hear them ring;
a song of sorrow
I hear them sing.

The whispers pull me to a pier
alee an ocean in my dream.
And at its edge
what shall appear
but the timid shadow of a gleam?
‘Tis a girl! ‘tis an angel!
A damsel in my dream.
But she is sighing,
she is crying,
and she’s calling out for me.

Her frail hands present a beam
that I have never seen nor seem
to find anywhere within a dream;
A dying candle's melting gleam.

Am I now mad to assume or seem
that perhaps I'm not in any dream,
but in a place
where one may deem
that all I've done
comes back to me?

A man of black appears before me
Sees me,
as none has ever seen.
This man brings me to another
I feel I know him as a brother.

I gaze upon the familiar man
as he's deep within his sleep.
Asleep within the deep.
Asleep without a dream.
Trapped inside a box,
sealed at the seams.
Where none can hear his silent screams.