You're not bad, you're not bad...

But I've grown up to believe I'm a monster, dark and angry, catching fire to villages and eating the women and children. I've grown up to hide to save myself from those who may hunt me, who know how to mount my skin on their walls and call me Trophy. I've come now to fear, to fear the warm beast inside myself and to pray that she stays dormant tonight. That she passes over blood-marked doors, dazily and unseen.

This is what my humanity taught me: to repress and to submit. But if we ride these monsters down... if we let live what we can not conform, what manner of seraphs will live among people?

These are they who are given; their ways can not be learned.