H.P. was a child who grew in pain
Nothing could be saved inside his brain
The preacher's son that was born to die
Long black nightmares, sleepless night
H.P. lived with the monsters under in his bed
His mother walked alone on desert sand
A black raven was eating her head
His secret hidden garden at the borders of his mind
In a silver sky
Summoning the monsters outside his school
Making love to an eyeless moth
Dancing in the rain of tentacles
Embracing golden pentacles
And vanishing inside his new born world
With the colors of outer space he wasn't cold
Neurasthenic thoughts It's all they say
Hermetical life, they would complain
All that he could do was meaningless
By the starved minds of stupidness
H.P. climbed the madness living all of them behind
In the dawn of my awakening I saw
The creatures in my head, they took my hands
Coloring my sadness
I was lost and I found myself
I saw the beautiful and bloody prelude of my
Success
I saw nothing so powerful
When I took my pen
In circle around me, Demons and Wolfmen
By those glowing creatures I found myself
Everyone was wandering why
While I was looking nightmares
In a cemetery of Providence