Dreams of Iron

These eyes are looking at me trying to escape from the claws of pain, the open hands with the same aim, but my white hair is all they can see, and all they can hear is my soul, saying, "I want to be with my paper taken from a tree", and when I am with the latter, all I say is "I want to be with my iron dream". The dream of blood, of iron is mine... forever Forever my dream...