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