And with the early dawn,
Moving right along, I couldn't buy an eye-full of sleep.
And in the aching night under satellites, I was not received.
Built with stolen parts, a telephone in my heart, someone get me a priest to put my mind to bed.
This ringing in my head, is this a cure or is this a disease?
Nail in my hand, from my creator.
You gave me life, now show me how to live.
Nail in my hand, from my creator.
You gave me life, now show me how to live.
And in the after birth, on the quiet earth, let the stains remind you, you thought you made a man.
You better think again, before my role defines you.
