Reflection of myself is what I've once found in you
When I look at me now I see something you'll never be
Sculptured by tears and winds of bygone times
With storms at my right and fire tongues at my left
I stand in front of you
Look in my eyes and see superiority – unreachable for you
Hear my laugh knocking down rotten foundations of your hideout
Weak – scared of your own voice
Blind – sleeping drunk with tears
Pathetic – begging for scars from orgy of life
Realize that you've never existed
If people search for acceptation in reflections of themselves

Then I'll become your greatest enemy
Father, what kind of creator are you
Giving birth to crawling crowd
Where everybody sucks salvation
Through the last resort – trust
Which they've been presented with
So much blood was lost
Small – jester at the mercy of bored lords
Croppled – never experienced the ecstasty
Ascetic – crucified by imagined sorrows
At the peak of the mountain
Surrounded by the compassionate people
You hammer nailes into the feet and palmes your love
But bloody wounds belong to you
Fucking self-created martyr