Текст песни Eremite

Man hold’s the fate of this world In his two hands But I’m I’m just talking That’s why, that is why Why I got into the habit of babbling to myself Am I, am I? I foresaw something like this But this is worse than anything I Thought of serves me right The poor little boy’s quite beside himself My life’s no more Than the life of a cockroach How I hate what? My ideas require it for their fufilment I’m the follower hesitating And losing the thread Is that the way I could hide My soul?