A mastermind in the old watchtower Prying eyes must never find. Playing God in the final hour Insanity, such a fine line Overwhelmed by the mourning process And the loss of his dearly loved The Doctors work is now obsession What is life? Whats beyond? He wants to know what its like to be God Creating life with his own hands To reanimate lifeless tissues The Devils work, the doctors plan A man of wealth and a genius mind A slave to passion and his morbid side Robbing graves of the nearly dead Erratic tendencies, a troubled mind
I will create in my own image If God can then why cant I? No thought of the consequences Ive got to know the meaning of life
Lightning strikes, its the witching hour The monstrosity comes alive A victim of mans vanity Born in delirium, a deranged child He turns his back on his own creation Chaos ensues, the innocent die Whos the monster? Whos the victim?