The Dead Man's Dream

As I lay down dying, a floor for my bed

And a bundle of newspaper under my head

I dreamed a dream, as strange as could be

Concerning myself, and somebody like me

We were in some city, the stranger and me

The houses were open, and the streets empty

The windows were bare, and the pavements dirty

I asked where I was; my companion ignored me

We entered a graveyard and searched for a tombstone

The graves were disturbed, and the coffins wide open

And the coprses were rotten, yet each one was living

Their eyes were alive with maggots crawling

I cried out in fear, but my voice had left me

My legs were deformed, yet I moved quite freely

My head was on fire, yet my hands were icy

And everywhere light, yet darkness engulfed me

I managed to scream and woke from my slumber

I thought of my dream and lay there and wondered

Where had I been? What could it mean?

It was dark in the deathroom as I slithered under