I Was the Muladona's Seventh Tale Lyrics

A sea of false smiles hiding murder, jealousy and revenge. The last tale leads us astray. It merges reality, fiction and its interpretation. Frightening bedtime stories are over, the reality takes its revenge. It's finally time to guess, and the truth now unfolds. Through the din of rain that drummed hard against the roof, I heard the mantel clock faintly chime 10, 11, 12 midnight. Each second that passed after that stretched on forever. My mind jumped in wild disarray to the events of my life ... Perhaps the curse stretched back to the very founding of Incarnation. Had the discovery of gold set into motion the need for a sacrifice each generation, from the miners who'd died in the tunnels to the settlers who'd died of disease, to me? Maybe the earth didn't want us. Maybe it never had. I felt a sudden drop in temperature. Mixed with the gusts of wind that shook the doors and shutters came a hissing noise, and the monster filled the room with the smell of ash and pestilent flesh and the sound of the clanking chains the creature dragged behind. I prayed that the rolling thunder would mask the pounding of my heart and not give me away. I heard the thing enter my bedroom and circle round my bed. This was the first time I'd looked the creature full in the face. It filled me with such horror that I immediately covered my eyes. It was an obscenity so terrible, so overwhelming that I cannot describe it in physical terms. It was war. It was pestilence. It was resentment that never died. It was a hate that could never be mollified. It was innocence perverted. It was dreams turned to cynicism and despair. Buried memories unearthed. A murder perfectly hidden in the boy's fragile subconscious. It strikes him so hard, like a storm. Like a storm. A father who's not a father. A bastard bred as sacrifice to take his revenge on a cheating wife. The hatred is so deep in understanding that he spent his whole life poisoned, his whole life weakened. We stood around the grave. The simple headstone read, ‘Adoring mother'. It had stopped raining. There was frost on the grass, and the sun was bright and cold. I glanced down at my grandfather's pocket watch; the second hand slowly swept towards eleven o'clock. As we stood, not a word between us, a peal of bells from the church back in town rang through the air. It was as if all the suffering during those years were compressed into those simple notes. It was an ache that knew no depths. Just three nights ago, she turned to me, her eyes bloodshot, her body drenched in sweat, and she whispered that she'd seen the Muladona in her dreams. I told her it was only the fever, that we'd killed the beast together, but she refused to believe me. With a haunted look in her eyes, she said, ‘It's comin' for us ... Before it gets here, you gotta write down the story. You gotta tell everythin' that happened. Since then I've been writing furiously. I broke my sacred promise. But I must tell the story in case the Muladona does come so you know how to defeat it. Don't listen to its lies. Trust in the people you love and always do what you feel in your heart. I don't know if the Muladona's really coming for us or not. I just know I'm no longer afraid of it, or death, or any other thing the devil has in store for me. Years ago we took a stand. We fought for everything that has value: love, happiness, freedom. And we won. Every day since then has been a gift.