Draw me a monster, sign with a heart
Leave it with silence, my kind of art.
Imperfections are all I desire
They make up all your attire.
Questions, questions from purer types
They know innocence well, it's in their eyes
He doesn't understand the lessons of life.
And to an extent, well, neither do I.
But somewhere deep down, it's screaming for fame:
It threatens to consume you, it boasts its own name.
And who is there, claiming the life we live?
When I am not with you, nobody is.
But I can't be indifferent, and nor can I be mad.
And since the fault is far from yours,
I'm rarely ever sad.
Nothing good will ever last
Nothing bad will leave the past,
But still I stay and wait for Time,
And he is getting old and slow
he doesn't take my bribe.
