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My father is not some fiery prince |
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I wear no fangs or red eyes |
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Mirrors and daylight are silly lies |
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In all those stories you spread about me |
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. No magic, no covens and terror |
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I walk among you as one of you |
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Never kill your food |
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Violence is a mark of the Dump |
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I live for the sting and the cascades |
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That wash the back of my throat |
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I live for the flood of the red |
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Flowing down and quenching the thirst |
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To pass the aeons of solitary fate |
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I sometimes write the stories |
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That tell more about your lazy minds |
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Than about the predator like me. |
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I live for the sting and the cascades |
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That wash the back of my throat |
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I live for the flood of the red |
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Flowing down and quenching the thirst |
