We danced around a cruel circle
Crocodiles attack at the sound of a tok
The tik is the painful migraine
Frozen digits lay still
As its trapped in a world that can never perish
The sounds that fight to escape bounce around the frosted glossed glass
The echoes of their mistakes blinds them to existence
The screams they wish to cry
But will never be heard
As the hand of time marks its prey
By the sound of its commander

I am not a god
Nor am I a dream
I am your nightmare
And when you die
We will meet