Thrice. Beggars. Red Telephone. Zeneszám

:
I woke alone, in a mansion on a hill;
Across the room: a red telephone.
Mouth was dry, I felt I?d been asleep for years.
I turned and I discovered then the sum of all my fears.

What have I become?
(Someone tell me that I?m dreaming!)
What have I become?
(Someone wake me up!)

Through the glass, the clouds were dark and harbored rain;
The land below grey and vast.
And through the mist, I saw the fields were flush with graves,
And each headstone was etched with lies discrediting the brave.

Son, imitate death?s true face;
For who and what and why?d they have to die?
Someone wake me up!