| On through the sleeper’s lair…
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| This vestibule of bones
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| The dream-like lion’s den
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| His serpentine abode
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| A way one only fares
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| At lucidity’s end
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| And the death of comprehension —
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| The sleeper’s time of wake
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| A convict of coercing silence
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| Trapped I am, inside these bowels rendered dead and timeless
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| Gatekeeper: how long must my shade still lengthen?
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| «Ceaselessly… until thou findst redemption at His altar»
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| Pledge thy vow… without retreating thy glance
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| Kneel and bow… with purest obeisance
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| In the dead of the night… succumb to the cult
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| By the killer’s sight… thy blood is bound to halt
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| Absorbed by that which calls me, voicelessly
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| The dread that lies beyond what my eyes can see…
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| Restlessly, like waiting for an axe
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| To take a swing and chop my head off
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| I squirm and tremble
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| Is this where I shall witness my last?
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| Is this the way my days are bound to pass away;
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| In despair and solemnly aghast?
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| A black chime airs, paving way for an ungodly mass
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| The hour drawing nigh, I feel it in my bones
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| It’s calling me inside… the nightmare’s heart and soul
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| To doze the violent dreams in the sleeper’s stead —
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| The predator unchained from its depths
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| My path leads on through honeycombed flesh corridors
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| My vanquished soul in this living death’s undertow;
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| In desolation, my ashen lips in an averse moan
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| I lay down on a stone with bloodstains
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| …My eyes 'come heavier
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| And into the night my struggling fades
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| My bane in this ritual deep inside my brain
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| A whisper the knife that cuts the weak bonds
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| Of rapture and pure agony
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| …The lion roars |