A brass key turns in the lock,
the door then opens wide;
heavy footsteps on the floor,
she tries to run and hide.
Its nearly four o'clock,
the sun is low and still;
the shadow of a grown man,
grows closer and closer at will.
A pale hand reaches out,
and grabs her by the throat;
she knows that it is over,
when the hand tightens and she chokes.
She has no reason to live,
no reason to go on it seems;
the last sound that she remembers,
is her last consious scream.
She wakes up and she sweating,
the windows' covered in steam;
its over now she knows it,
it was just a stupid dream. |
