| I am sprawling in my armchair and feel so good
|
| A watchful glare wrapping and taking care of my sensations
|
| A restrained explosion
|
| I feel even better, and more and more cheerful
|
| All the joy building up at the bottom of my throat into a bouncy and hysterical
|
| ball
|
| -CHORUS-
|
| Seducing dementia
|
| I’m Unable to hold it any longer
|
| I need to pour this joy out
|
| Even if only a little
|
| Both sensations of movement and movement of sensations
|
| I need to declaim those words — again and again
|
| I want to share this truth with every man
|
| As if I could kiss this world
|
| But as it takes ages to command my lips to move
|
| And finally my words so odd, slightly disturbed I decide
|
| I will not move my body
|
| But let the room dance around me
|
| -CHORUS-
|
| Seducing dementia
|
| I’m Unable to hold it any longer
|
| I need to pour this joy out
|
| Even if only a little
|
| Only now I realize — how tense and painful I am
|
| For I’ve been sitting such a long time now
|
| All my muscles prickling, my whole body is under strain
|
| Trying to relieve the point of pressure again
|
| I need to stretch my will and lean aside uncross my legs
|
| But my body remains frozen — and paralyzed
|
| My whole motion painfully slow I feel it’ll never end
|
| Blocked by fear as if a single move could make everything fall and crash
|
| Seated and petrified
|
| Agonizing till the achievement
|
| Prickling and terrorized
|
| Of taking over the control |