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.



[Lead: Peter]



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