Monkey ...
why do you look at me in that way,
why do you follow me Monkey,
sometimes worry,

sometimes hurt,

probably angry...

– Why did you get angry...!
– Because first I throw you there away?
– Sorry it was because I was afraid of you,

cause I had noticed your eyes on my mind,
your lovely cradle song on my ear,
your far unsilent words upon my face..
that hurted me.

But no more Monkey, I want you already here,
ever when you could disable me.
- Monkey, if you could speak ...?
- I don’t know... maybe I wouldn’t care about it.

i'm paranoid