Be silent, my dear, and open your eyes,
Lest your wisdom fades and dies.
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The Dream-weaver comes and casts her net.
Caught in her web, bound in her thread,
Wandering through her realm of dread,
Yet thrashing blindly, drenched in sweat.
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The Dream-weaver comes adorned in white.
Ensnaring her victims, cursing their sleep,
Trapping their minds in the haunting deep,
Gliding swiftly throughout the night.
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My dear, she casts a spell of deceit,
Do not believe that her smile is sweet.
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The Dream-weaver comes with crimson eyes.
Forsaking her image, feeding her hunger,
She weaves her dreams of endless terror,
Basking in her glory at the moonrise.
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The Dream-weaver comes in search of prey,
One with the shadows, she extends her hand,
Draining your soul with a single strand,
She laughs as your essence begins to decay.
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She robs you of life upon her sight,
So, my dear, beware the night.
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