Lyrics Voltaire – The Chosen

Last night a moth came to my bed,
And filled my tired weary head,
With horrid tales of you,
I can’t believe it’s true.

First time I had sex I was three.
First time consenting was thirteen.
Though you weren’t there you remind,
Me of those hands.
Roses are red, violets are blue,
If I’m schizophrenic, then I am too!
Whatever it takes to escape.

I hope you understand,
Why I’m forced to take your life in my hands.
I want you to know it’s nothing personal.
And though we’ve never met,
I’ve seen your image in a million waking dreams.
Your eyes they call to me, «Set me free.»

Did I ever tell you? You look like my mother.
She once left me in a supermarket.
I promised myself that I’d never feel that way again.
Did I ever tell you? You look like my dear old mother.

I hope you understand,
Why I’m forced to take my life in your name.
I want you to know it’s nothing all the same.
And though we’ve never met,
I’ve seen your image in a million waking dreams.
Your eyes they call to me, «Set me free.»

Last night a moth came to my bed,
And filled my tired weary head,
With horrid tales of you,
I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it’s true.
But then the lamp shade smiled at me,
And it said, «Believe,» it said, «believe.»
I want you to know it’s nothing personal

I hope you understand,
Why I’m forced to take your life in my hands.
I want you to know it’s nothing personal.
And though we’ve never met,
I’ve seen your image in a million waking dreams.
Your eyes they call to me, «Set me free.»

I hope you understand,
Why I’m forced to take my life in your name.
I want you to know it’s nothing all the same.
And though we’ve never met,
I’ve seen your image in a million waking dreams.
Your eyes they call to me, «Set me free.»

It’s not easy being the chosen.
It’s not easy being the chosen.
It’s not easy being the chosen.
It’s not easy being the chosen.