You were just a common man.
Born from Your mother, born from the God Pan.
So full of love You were discovering the world
Finally, what You found was a cold sword
This cold weapon mirrors your own legacy:
To be a common guy without any inadequacy

But the bug, You’ve never had,
For the little time you've lived made you so very sad
Now You are lying in a warm blood lake
Innocent, different, and everybody's shaken
But You were full of life and filled with a fresh spirit
You were fond of boys and purely for that sake
Now the death comes for You, poor boy
because the Fear has the sword as its´ toy.

Requiem aeternam, dona eis domine, it‘s sung to all the dead,
but not for You my dear boy.
Why? Someone just said,
for You there is no heavenly toy…
Your only destiny is the sword
not any eternal life, nor the Lord.
Sleep my boy, yes, a lake you will bleed!
There will be no funeral for the scary freak

The parson preaches to live in love
but this love's adjusted by dread
nobody wants the different bread
it's easier to sweep your distinct crumbs off of the world
Sleep, cute boy, the rain is coming down… maybe cries the Lord