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.