It lured me into dreams
I couldn’t tell it from the shadows
On your painted wall-paper.

I followed my fear
Into the den of magic neons
Burning bright beside the bed.

There’s a princess
And six apples inside the casket,
Tired looking and pale.

Even without my senses
I could have sworn on
Lifelessness of aeons before my time.

There I closed my eyes
With you sharpening against my vigil
And a weary princess staring hard
At the casket, before the sun is out.