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Turn me into a battery If I get to be who I wanna be No "One", no prodigy Will speak for me I can't touch, I can't feel A false prophecy The truth or a lie, this painting of thought Black and white lines, vividity drawn Don't drown me in a sea of machines Don't drown me in a sea of machines Call me back in Turn me into a battery If I get to be who I wanna be No "One", no prodigy Will speak for me I can't touch, I can't feel A false prophecy "...to say yes, it may be a game, but it's a ghastly game, it's a grim game. It's like a child who's caught a fly alive and is picking the wings off it. The universe is that sort of scheme. It's a trap. It's the thing that gives you hope, always dangling possibilities in front of you to keep you going but then it grinds you up. Then it revives you a little like a master torturer, keeping a person alive in order to experience pain." Call me back in No "One", no prodigy Will speak for me I can't touch, I can't feel A false prophecy No "One", no prodigy Will speak for me I can't touch, I can't feel A false prophecy Turn me into a battery Turn me into a battery
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