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O Monstro (ingles vers.)

By Dan Cilva 

It burned a lot... the nails in my arms, in my hands. 
I remember between breaths the moment 
that I was dragged through the streets By half a dozen priests. 

The voices whine in the background 
With hate speech "kill the monster!" 

I'm the monster... 

In those days when my world was clothed with blood and 
Desire for blood, where my parents were taken from this world 
By the hands of my grandfather. 

All I wanted was to find him and 
That's what made me wander 
from war to war behind Vitorius. 

My vision is lost in the darkness and I see people in it, 
I hear these same people in their misshapen grunts. 

I'm tired, it's empty inside. 
There's too much room for all this anger in here. 

I can not feel the tips of my fingers... 

I lowered my head with the weight of my reverie. 
Something crawled through the rocks, 
She could feel his breath catching. 
I was tired and I saw all sorts of 
terrible images Hovering in my mind, 
and among these journeys there was one Ended up 
repeating itself for an eternity of time. 

They were walking in their long white robes and 
In their hands they carried candles. 
His ghostly features hung in obscure corridors 
Flanked by pictures and vast silverware, 
seemed to be looking for something. 

I heard a heavy sound of wood breaking through the darkness. 
One of them disappeared and 
the others were walking faster now desperate. 

You could hear the word "monster" whispered 
in the middle of the night.

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