It loomed up on a perfect day:
The glorious return of my hope.
They try to shut me away again,
I'm almost out of control.
Their way will not change,
They will fail 'till you come.
I hid behind all these veils
(a little disguise is not bad…!).
Then it became a symptom again:
A big disorder in my head.
Their way will not change
(instead they will begin a new game),
But they will fail 'till you come.
They'll taste my pain,
My blame, my rage,
My cynicism in rough state.
Should i trust my intuition?
It's up to me from now on.
No matter how good i can live between states out of control…
Their speech will not change
(instead they will invent a new disease).
But they will fail: i'm in command .
They'll taste my pain,
My blame, my rage,
My cynicism in rough state.