I thought my sleep was my solitude
My only escape from a dungeon ye may call earth
But this bed my body lies on becomes the flaming palm of Lucifer's Hand at night, he does whatsoever he wills.
I am a helpless prey to the night
As the sky turns gloomy so does this soul of mine.
Nights have become a scream for help
An open door for melancholy and loneliness to find its way into my abode.