Red Telephone

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?