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