My father is not some fiery prince I wear no fangs or red eyes Mirrors and daylight are silly lies In all those stories you spread about me . No magic, no covens and terror I walk among you as one of you Never kill your food Violence is a mark of the Dump I live for the sting and the cascades That wash the back of my throat I live for the flood of the red Flowing down and quenching the thirst To pass the aeons of solitary fate I sometimes write the stories That tell more about your lazy minds Than about the predator like me. lead: Peter I live for the sting and the cascades That wash the back of my throat I live for the flood of the red Flowing down and quenching the thirst