Dreamy clouds don't exist,
Nor do those starry nights;
Look around son, at the dirt below,
'Cause dead men tell no tales,
Dead men tell no lies.
Don't sway away with the faceless priest,
Preaching the twisted fables and foolish stories;
Of a god that failed long ago,
From hopes that died even before,
Of a god that died long ago.
Fear your mother's smile, my son,
Dread your father's heart, my son;
Sleep tight with blank screen ahead,
Your breathless silence is the truest,
But our lies are truer, my son
Wish your enemies death and good fortune;
Your lover, a future full of miseries;
Wish and wish and dream those dreams,
Your wishful conspiracies,
Your absolute fallacies.
So prepare your mask tonight
If you could
See those hopeful mornings,
Flawless dusks and dawns;
Those calming full moon nights,
Hear those chirps and chatter
Of children and birds alike.
Laugh away all your frights
Be the one
With the brightest smile
Like the sun;
In that case your mask is right,
I am but your mask, my son