Here they are, my sweet dreams
After feasting with devils
You know who I am, but the lights never go out
The cameras film what I do and me
So you can see who they are, but the show isn't over
I don't even have to get my hands dirty, would you believe it?
I just have to tighten them
Now we're in that acid state
Which precedes the adrenaline of memories
All existence that unravels together with solitude
Sometimes this area of agitation
And the show has yet to begin