گوشه را که رد می‌کنم، حیوانی جلو رویم سبز می‌شود؛ گوزن است. شاخدار. چشم‌هایش نور چراغ‌قوه را منعکس می‌کند. هر دو در لحظه منجمد شده‌ایم. ایستاده. جوری در تکینگی هستی ریشه دوانده که برای موجودی مثل من ممکن نیست. چشم‌هایش در نوری که به صورتش انداخته‌ام می‌درخشید. بعد ناپدید می‌شود. با صدای خش‌خشی ناپدید می‌شود. توی تاریکی شب نیست و به دل جنگل بالای خانه می‌زند. مثل خورشیدکوب توی چشمم افتاده. شاخ‌هایش را جلو صورتم می‌بینم. چه تاج سنگینی. ولی تاجی که اعلام می‌کند: اگر تحمل سنگینی این بار را دارم پس بدان که از تو هم ترسی ندارم. - هیولاهایی که لایق‌شان هستیم مارکوس سجویک

1:16 Quicksand color blind in the hourglass All spun out 'cause you can't stop looking back Better stay still, don't you make a move What'd you hope to find here? Taught me how to fall But you never told me I was meant to die here Stick and move Sharpen up the knife Keep it tight Stay between the lines Make your mark Take your own advice Don't be surprised when you trip and stumble I played the fool again My old unfaithful friend Stick and move Sharpen up the knife Don't be surprised if you can't stay between the lines

00:42 Hide me in the back room, tell me when it's over Don't know if I can play this part much longer I'll be in the back room, tell me when it's over Don't know if I can play this part much longer I don't know if it is right to live this way, yeah I'll be in the back room, tell me when it's over People always say, "Man, at least you're on the radio" At least you're on the radio, oh At least you're on the radio, huh At least you're on the radio, oh

2:05 Once we were lost Like we almost Like we almost, were in love Can't you help it, thinking of me? Think you love me It's like you must, like you almost, like you almost Have a lust For making something of me, something of me Lost, like we almost Like we almost, were in love Well it made something Something of me, something of me

"کتاب من درمورد مادربودنه. یا به‌طور کلی‌تر درمورد والدبودنه. درمورد تجربه‌ی طردشدنه. درمورد گناه طرد کردن فرزندان‌مون. اینکه موجودی رو به این دنیا بیاریم و بعد به امان خودش رهاش کنیم. وحشت حقیقی کتاب من اینه." - هیولاهایی که لایق‌شان هستیم مارکوس سجویک

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1:47 We always rub our hands too much We know the reasons, but such and such On your own You will not catch your own bone We run our fingers together You know it's easy, the devil's plan On your own You cannot call me your own