As I stare at the stars, aware of but a fraction of the story
My flesh is gray, weak and fragile, my being made of clay
From the depths of the dark asylum I was made from parts
Sewn together precisely in the darkness of a laboratory
By a mad doctor holding power of life and death, insane
So as I stare up again, knowing I am unique like the stars
I need not wonder what madness begets, my life is pain
I need not wonder, or ponder truth, I simply know
And nothing should frighten you of life, but mine is not
I live between the living and dead worlds, without hope
