Meg & Dia
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Meg & Dia

Monster lyrics

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Meg & Dia – Monster lyrics

[Verse 1]
His little whispers
"Love me, love me"
That's all I ask for
Love me, love me
He battered his tiny fists to feel something
Wondered what it's like to touch and feel something

Monster, how should I feel?
Creatures lie here, looking through the window

[Verse 2]
That night he caged her,
Bruised and broke her.
He struggled closer,
Then he stole her.
Violet wrists and then her ankles.
Silent pain.
Then he slowly saw their nightmares were his dreams.

Monster, how should I feel?
Creatures lie here, looking through the windows.
Time will hear their voices.
I'm a glass child.
I am Hannah's regrets.

Monster, how should I feel?

Turn the sheets down.
Murder ears with pillow lace.
There's bath tubs full of glow flies,
Bathe in kerosene.
Their words tattooed in his veins.

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Corrected byPowerpuff_Aibi


  • u
    Before I read any of the comments I heard this song and thought it was familiar so I read the lyrics and hears what I think.
    It's about a boy who when he was little was ignored as a child and just wanted to be loved or to feel something so he would have random outbursts to get his parents atention but that didn't work so when he was growing up I guess he saw some pple. Doing it and thought that was love so he saw a pretty girl and stood outside her window and broke in he then you know what ed her and realized what he had dreamed of being good was really every girls nightmare and tied her up hence "violet wrist and then her ankles" he gagged her " silent pain" then he did it. After he realized this and thought life was no longer worth living and killed himself in a bath tub of karosene and lit it on fire like glow worms.
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  • d
    This song is on YouTube with the story under it. Since some of you didn't notice I will post it:
    21 apr. 2012

    The song is based off of a short story that was written by Meg and Dia, but also based on the book East of Eden by John Steinbeck.

    The couch. Always behind the couch. Under the table. The closet under the stairs. Three places to run. Three places to hide. Every time their voices would rise I would run to the closest sanctuary and thank God I was small enough to fit. Those voices that ran across each corner of the room seemed to reverberate off my very skin. Dad. He told me to call him Sir. Never Dad. Mom. She told me to call her Hannah. She was so pretty when she slept. She was so pretty when she was happy. Now, her body of twenty years was old. Tired from no sleep, breaking from fingertips pressed into her sides, and boiling with too hard of liquor for her fragile, porcelain outline.

    After every uproar, every tear by her, and every empty bottle by him they would come looking. Her, happy to see him turn his malice towards me. Him, happy to turn his malice away from himself. I was the six year old pathetic coward.

    Sir, I would say.

    My eyes would wander to Hannah with frightened curiosity.

    What had I done?

    I called him sir. I called her Hannah.

    They called me Henry at school.

    They called me Henry at church.

    They called me Monster at home.

    After black, they would confine me to my room. A tiny room with one window, where their words said minutes earlier would form long sentences and wrap around in a circle above my head like those music boxes loving mothers would clip to the sides of their infants cribs. I hated my room. I hated the dark. They knew it, too, and took pleasure in locking me in. Locking me in where they could get me.

    Dear Reader: Please note, if you ever were a six year old child, remember what it was like to lay in bed and imagine that loud heartbeat pulsing thick from underneath your mattress. Remember that hand that hovered over your face once you closed your eyes. Remember that loud breathing that resided around your open window. The creatures. That white little girl that crawled towards you in the night, hair hanging around the neck, fingers outstretched. To a child it is horrid. To an adult, it is a memory that most barely ever remember.

    Twenty years later.

    I didn't understand love. I didn't understand human connection. I only understood the weather: constantly changing. I understood change. I didn't understand safety, or any emotion, be it love, or hate, that could be unconditional.

    I was at my second year of college. I was striving to be a writer. I didn't trust the crowds. I would go to my apartment, sit at my small desk I had gotten at a garage sale, and stay there for hours with my books, my papers, and a bottle of brandy. Then the day would end, and I'd get ready for the next.

    I slept with the lights on.


    I didn't want many things, but every once in a while, I hate to admit, I would want to feel that popular emotion I had read about in so many books: love. I was scared to administer it myself. I was scared to feel for another person.

    So things happened.

    On the walk to my apartment I saw a girl in a red sweater. I pardoned her and asked her if she knew where Rebecca street was. She looked at me in a funny way, paused, and turned her back to me. My hands ran to her shoulders, my lips to her neck. Hard fingers, hard hands. Her soft hair, thin ankles.

    I ran off, leaving the crème skinned girl crying at her violette bruises left in patches under her sweater and skirt.

    I had been born of glass but now I only felt apathy. No regrets, but still, that hard human pain that is there when you know you have done a terrible trespass.

    I went back to my apartment. I turned all the lights on and opened the window. The night was calm and beautiful. The wind brought in glow flies by the dozen. They did not bother me like they did to most locals here. They brought light and company and I loved them with all my heart. I broke the lamps and poured the liquid into the bath tub. Small shards of porcelain glass managed to mix in with the water as well, that was now pouring from the faucet. I added the remaining kerosene I kept under my sink and by my desk which I had used as a denaturant for my alcohol.

    Maybe it would have the same effect on me.

    You're welcome :)
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  • Crazed_Cookie
    So a lot of people are trying to guess what this song is about and so here is the answer to your guesses. When this boy was little he wasn't loved and so he didn't feel anything. As a result of this he wanted to feel something so he became violent. Proceeding to say that he feels something when he touches others. Meg and Dia said that they use the word monster because in the book this is based on you become a monster if you have no love in your life. Now hes wondering how he should feel. Then he abuses this girl and steals her virginity but realizes that this is hurting her when he thought it was love because he never knew what love was. And now everyone is talking about how Hannah had this kid and the kid hears all this and knows that he/she is Hannah's regrets. Now the boy kills himself after seeing that what he did wasn't love by bathing in kerosene and lighting it on fire which makes the bathtub full of glow flies (fire).
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