Who will it be? If the candles were lit What Time had they promised? Who is this? Sometimes they see it, before they see it When I was twelve or thirteen, I had a terrible dream And it still haunts me, it still haunts me 3:03, a gust comes and freezes me In my bed, enclosed, no open vents Still always 3:03, the doors are loudly slamming Mother Mother standing in the dark, she hears what I do not, then alerts us all: The time has come, the time has come Father Father smiles and whispers of horrors, in this gray room It's clear these bodies don't contain my parents anymore Who is this? I'm now at age eighteen, forgotten all my dreams I've felt the love of those around me Heavy sleep, the darkness conquers me In my bed, the wind- but no open vents Again at 3:03, I'm wide awake and the doors start creaking Ana! You're here!