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I must build up with my ambitions what I miss around, waiting and quaking, with the sweet torment of wait, so unpitying and wearing. I cannot know how and if the moment will come, which will change the quiver of depression or evolution. To leave and to be content, living time has not certain, or to undergo and to sweat, thinking the wait will evolve and I won't depress, and I hope time won't betray. Many different sensations alternate (succeed each other) let oscillate the humour and the expectations. I am sitting to wait and I begin to brake. Failure would be the certainty of uselessness of my sweat that like a thorn in throat lets me remember its presence, but lets me remember that also I am an animal and if I want to live I must fight or escape. And in any case I am forced to die. Aus Songtexte Mania