Diagnosis / Comatose -

Marionettes care not if their painted all alike

If they keep to themselves, don’t make a sound

They may just get by

But if I should free myself from my master’s hands

This manifest master plan

I’d be content with myself

I tried so hard to be a fake

But I’m tired of this tiresome state

No medicine I take could make the angels stay nor keep the demons at bay

And they’ve been dreading these nightmares

This mindless, man-made array of machines

Will somebody remove this thread from my head

Until my mind opens and there is nothing left to sew?

Only then I’ll fall apart at the seams

Detach myself from these strings that hold me hostage and get the hell out of

here

I’m comatose yet I believe that I am real

I’m comatose but I know I must be real

And they have been dreading these nightmares

When we’re no longer mindless machines

And they’ll try to destroy me, dismantle me

Before I wake and regain consciousness

But I am real