A little wooden doll springs
to life each night in my dream
in a wooden box hung
over firing hearth

Soon it’s gonna be over
and I would help but my
skin is glued to the chair
ripping it with flesh if I move

I’m crying and bleeding
from somewhere of my chest
where the tears are poison
coming to the hole in my heart

Eternity later helpless knocking stops
and life is taken by flame
that rises and slowly
fills the lightless room

It’s strange though for I’m
certain I see everything burning
but the world
just feels so cold**...