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 kill, 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 mass destruction

Music: C.Westholm // Lyrics: C.Westholm