Last night I lay in leaden sleep,
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I had a scary dream
a visitor came to my bed
said I was prey for him
his hands were dripping red.
His eyes were cold, his voice a creak,
I fled on raven wings,
he followed on the breath of storms
he stank of carrion things,
his step called forth the worms.
I ran the sole off of my shoes
And walked my flesh to bone
my bloody spoor gave me away,
he followed dripping clues
I ran, refused to pray.
At last my feet were walked to nought
just splinters did remain,
I dropped exhausted and lay still
his laughter rang insane
I payed the butchers bill.
My grave was filled and weed did blow
and seasons cyled on
it`s of no use to rant and rave
this is a race that can`t be won
its finish is the grave.