You call the artist a dreamer
You are accusing him of living on the edge, one step out of reality.
He’s not serious, he’s not reliable, he’s just…
living in his own world. Exactly.
You who don’t even have time to stop for a moment and think,
who maybe doesn’t even want to question…
Yes, you who are looking at me in that detatched way, almost with disgust…
Have you ever tried to wonder what the meaning of all of this really was?
Have you ever wondered why I chose to live like this?
You’re accusing me to be escaping reality,
to be chasing an impossbile, yet wonderful (if i can have a word) Illusion.
Yes, Illusion… But what if the real illusion was your world?
You call it Society, You call it Order, You call it Safety;
I call it Treason, I call it Death, I call You Murderer.
You never hesitate to judge but did you ever even realize that you’re committing
an incredible crime, denying your own human nature?
You call me Fool, I call you Blind.
You call it Reality, You call me Fugitive, I call it Prison.
You are laughing at me but I am the one who can see the key.
And I must, I must break free.

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