• In sleep I lie,
    in this place,
    where dreams come to die.

    Where the wind moans,
    spirits wail,
    and trees groan.

    Where blood drips red,
    staining the sky,
    and the linen of my bed.

    Where the air smells of rot,
    the ground is ever wet,
    and the water boils hot.

    Here in this place,
    I wait in anguish,
    as blood falls upon my face.

    My love promised me,
    a heaven here,
    such that I do not see.

    My soul he took,
    drenched in sorrow,
    my love he forsook.

    And so here in this place,
    I wait for him to join me,
    and his blood to cover my face.