Sinking into a gloomy theatre's stall.
The premiere show is coming to an end.
The corps de ballet dives into a frenzied dance.
A music starts. Sounds coming from the grave.

God, blinding spotlight holes my mind like a drill.
I am longing to smoke, already dying to cry.
Here no one knows me, my bloody hands.
I could look as a pretty girl!
No, tomorrow it's late, tomorrow escapes...

I'm living for my dreams,
I have made cruel murders and
Followed bright desires.
Round and round you'll save my burnt soul,
Because I find it hard to feel fine.

Crushed by my immortal fame
I don't dare to give up
Either deter myself from caring my sharp knife.
My shade draws away from me.
Now I could look like a pretty girl!