Kill the Beast
Beautiful was the sunset
Gorgeous was the lovesick moon aglow
In the gentle hands of the sea is where heavens met
How softly he laid afloat
This should not have happened to someone like him
A boy so quiet, frail, benign without a sin
But it could not be helped
It could not be helped
"Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!"
The ones standing upon the earth they claim, may not realize
See how deep his thoughts can ponder
Deeply alone, how far he may yonder
But too blunt and foggy are their eyes--filled with sliver--
They only judge by the size
"Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!"
Be wary of the fair--sensitive--- butterfly
A light wave of a hand can sweep him away and make his eyes cry
But for one so small, he seems so strong
His kind is rare, like a soulful song
Not many noticed him, not many cared for him
Not many liked him, not many hated him
"Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!"
Face to face, the wicked devil and he
Each second, darkness conquered this place, where he found peace
How cold and vile the demon
The eyes, those mocking eyes were his venom
His body weak and frail
With pity he let it lay and rest, the poor beast
The truth was to be delivered, he hurried to the feast
"Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!"
Confusion and fear were their excuse
Those weapons were only meant for abuse
Endless blood-spill,
Us human's sickness for obsession to kill
Every thrust!! Every stab!!
Thirst for blood!! Kill!!
Red liquid visible and spilt on wretched hands!!
They were no more than disturbingly mad
Yet the frail butterfly did not give in
He wanted to deliver the truth
His voice was lost, though, to the wickedness within
These boys wanted blood and kill, despite their youth
"Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood! Do him in!"
Beautiful was the sunset
Gorgeous was the lovesick moon aglow
In the gentle hands of the sea is where heavens met
How softly he laid afloat
Bright creatures accompanied around his head
His face - so innocent, so pure, so soft and gentle-
Ruthless and cold-blooded were the murderers
Yet the boy rests upon sheets of water with heavenly peace
This should not have happened to someone like him
A boy so quiet, frail, benign without a sin
But it could not be helped
It could not be helped
But in the end
It was he, who was saved