I woke alone, in a mansion on a hill;

Across the room: a red telephone.

Mouth was dry, I felt I’d been asleep for years.

I turned and I discovered then the sum of all my fears.



What have I become?

(Someone tell me that I’m dreaming!)

What have I become?

(Someone wake me up!)



Through the glass, the clouds were dark and harbored rain;

The land below grey and vast.

And through the mist, I saw the fields were flush with graves,

And each headstone was etched with lies discrediting the brave.



Son, imitate death’s true face;

For who and what and why’d they have to die?

Someone wake me up!