The final hour is getting near.
The time is getting close, I fear.
Footsteps at my door I hear;
Time to pay for life so dear.
I want to flee, but its too late;
My soul is in the grip of Fate.
I close my eyes, take one last breath

And feel the cold, cold hands of Death.

Slowly now I drift away 
Into an eerie time and space.
I cry out but no one hears 
In this lonely, strange new place.
Blackness closes all around. 
No longer can I see or feel.
The last thought slowly echoes out:
Am I a dream, or am I real?