Phantastic

I tell fairy tales about you that you listen to so preciously

You are a sick flower, you, that one looks at with crimson eyes

Correct me if all this is weak

What you do doesn't create attention anymore

It doesn't create interest

This is not real

I compare the ideas and I turn on the stars

There is a Christ that bleeds and that looks at us with rage

It's like you know, for me it's your fault

What you do doesn't create attention anymore

It doesn't create interest

Aggression won't have me

It confuses the ideas and slices up people

There is a god that bleeds, that bleeds

And I think that i'm abnormal therefore I don't know

Do you see me? Are you afraid? Do you think I will use you?

uuuuuuuuuuh

Original lyrics

Phantastica

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