Running on the egde of the cliff, can't see the bottom below Running from the drove of pigs, they're breathing ebony fire Turning black is the sky with clouds thick, my limbs are going numb Never run nor hide Pigs will catch me soon They grin with slaver Heads of them are countless Rush like furious waves I see another drove ahead Rather dive to death from the edge Than eaten alive My last view is their faces Faces of the pigs Every pig has the face of mine