In the fuzzy hour of sleep, reality sifts
in rifts of soft smokey drifts.
Sweet slumber shifts to the chill of acid tears.
The wonder of lace and mirrors, becomes a placid sackcloth of fears.
A blunder does erase white down clouds to dark shadows.
In thunder a clown\'s snickering face lauds love, beckoning stark decay of the gallows.
In dreams shallows, I sold my essence, receiving the prey of nightmares.
An echo screams in a hole where, adolescence lost my soul, deceiving white hairs.
I\'m a dog in a fight against Cerberus\' rage in the betting pit.
Released in a fog, from the cage, a loss, in a murderous double cross, that dries spit.
I\'ve been bit, ears torn. Too late! Rabid, howls and growls fill the air.
As I sit, in scorn, at hell\'s gate, foaming jowls, gnashing teeth bare.
Crowds swear, cheer, bet, jeer, sweat, stare, there\'s a fist fight and drunken brawl.
But in this lair no one dares, shed a tear or care, nothing makes this right at all.
Hair and flesh tear, I\'ve got no time for thought in my plight.
Put on the spot, although I fought, I shrink from the bite.
Blood\'s terror runs hot, like a dog caught, by his throat in a fight.
Here you can\'t take a dive, only one leaves the pit alive, a grip on my neck so tight.
Don\'t let em out of your sight, despite a broken leg, don\'t beg, no matter the fright.
Might I, from this blood sport, find my way free?
You\'re right, I retort, this depends entirely upon me.