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