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
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
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