In my mind there was a chasm,
And the door was shut to the dead,
As I knocked, no one answered,
My feet froze on unthawed land.
Here I am at the steps to your door,
But you are sleeping,
You are dreaming pleasantries,
While I am shifting foot to foot
In the cold dark.
Can I not come warm myself
In your bed,
Beneath the feathers and the cotton sheets,
My life is a treachery,
And a tale of incest and fire.