Bred from a thought 
A little mouvement in the air 
Takes shape in a few second 
Becomes a monster

I can't hear what it's saying 
It's not that it is soft-spoken 
Or my hear have fallen off 
Its words prick my skin 
I'm trying to keep them out 
But after three days they've eaten their way to my 
inmost 
Where they hold a mad feast on the pulp called my heart

I do . I nothing but do wish for a storm to blow off 
from here 
They're materialising

Tell me nothing more 
Don't want to know anything more 
I don't want to elaborate my nightmares any further 
Or make them step out of the air 
Don't need more dream matter

You think I can't ? 
Oh I can get hurt 
I can get so hurt

They hold a mad feast on the pulp called my heart 
I just can't love anymore

I ' ve created a monster ... Oh no , what I have done