The chilly October air sears my skin
As I wander through the winding lane;
Stone, serpentine trails lay on top of coffins,
Dark headstones and obelisks mark the slain;
Whether it be by sickness or untimely murder
All ill-fated bodies rest peacefully.
I continue to amble through death's corridor,
Through the sky, the stars dance so gracefully;
A glint of cold granite stands alone,
There, bathed in a pool of moonlight,
Lies an elegantly decorated headstone
With my name carved in letters bright!
I stood still as a statue, trusting not my eyes,
This dream was predicting my eerie demise.