The tips of our tongues are twisted by words that we always say.
Everything becomes nothing other than a cliche.
We are monsters living above our own beds.
trying to wrap our heads around the shit that seems to spread.
Our anger is rolling further than deep
but I want it gone, finally being able to close my eyes and sleep.
We are not the monster we claim to be.
Just lovers trying to fight to maintain that key.
As Shakespeare might say: Would thou change for me?
Because our love can be stronger than the Northern Sea,
And we can have what we planned with little Absidy
Because we are not the monster we claim to be.
Lets breakaway and finally be free.