Who will it be? If the candles were lit
What Time had they promised? Who is this? Sometimes they see it, before they see it
When I was twelve or thirteen, I had a terrible dream
And it still haunts me, it still haunts me
3:03, a gust comes and freezes me
In my bed, enclosed, no open vents
Still always 3:03, the doors are loudly slamming

Mother
Mother standing in the dark, she hears what I do not, then alerts us all: The time has come, the time has come
Father
Father smiles and whispers of horrors, in this gray room
It's clear these bodies don't contain my parents anymore
Who is this?

I'm now at age eighteen, forgotten all my dreams
I've felt the love of those around me
Heavy sleep, the darkness conquers me
In my bed, the wind- but no open vents
Again at 3:03, I'm wide awake and the doors start creaking

Ana! You're here!