On the hill, there is a cry 

Over the mountains and beyond

There is a voice 

That beckons me to return

Return to slumber 

Return to peace

Return to moments less important than these

To simple days

When the world revolves on loving thy enemy

In their obscure ways

To art that spoke of music

And the music that spoke of monsters

With large teeth and fangs

To the dragon under the hill

I wish thee well

If only to return to slumber.