Some people have a feeling they are not like others. Some are not. This man suspects that he is born without the ability to love, that he can only k**, obey and blow himself to pieces. No reason why, but a distinct feeling that someone will sooner or later tell him to, and furthermore that this will not end it, just start the cycle all over again. Was he ever born?
Born and dead, reborn restored
With memories
and thought installed
Designed to live a thousand times,
just waiting her impatiently
I am so confused, my mind seems trapped inside this artificial skin
Why am I
Why am I
Unlike man
Without life
Why am I
Unlike man
Without dreams
I am cold rigid and remote
Flesh and bone close to perfection
without mission no direction
Waiting for your fatal action
Like a tool of ma** destruction