Such a vision so confound,
These shadows on the wall.
God forbid one make a sound
Lest all of them should fall.
What to do if the sun should rise
What then would become of they?
Shall each ashen spirit meet their demise
And should send my friends away?

Such a vision so concerning,
This reflection in the glass
Such a question my curiosity yearning
Perhaps a man from hours past?
What to do if the glass should break
What then would become of he?
Such a thought for my own sake
Would he be slain or rather be set free?