I feel stifled, trampled underfoot
The dark robed man has taken all my loot
My throat is on fire, I’m unable to speak
Only thing that cools me is damp water from the leak
My eyelids struggle to stay open
The heavy chains at my feet grovel
As I slowly flutter my wings, leaving myself so opulent
As thick black smoke fills the room
I can’t help but hear a weaver’s loom
The thread is cut, the game is over
A man behind me tells me to be sober
All my progress fades away, dependent on a single thread
A hot poker enters , made of lead
Suddenly, I break free all pain disappears
As I stop clutching (my) luxurious friends and dear
A laugh echoes throughout the room
The game is over so are the sabres of doom
A gentle smile appears on my face
I wake up, walk up the stairs , leave without a trace
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