A Puppet's Mood Swings

This catastrophic mass of a body
Even I hate it, curse it, the evil won't disappear
A myriad of eyes impose upon my brow
I'll be abused until I go mad

A scornful voice consumes my five senses
If my corpse of a body is completely devoured
My soul will be taken over by eternity
But my sorrow will never disappear

If dying is proof of having lived
Then Gods, strike down the thunder of judgment
Unable to break apart my rusted chains
I keep struggling in a dark box

If dying is proof of having lived
Then Gods, strike down the thunder of judgment
Unable to break apart my rusted chains
I'll keep struggling in the dark box

Not even knowing what it's like to be loved
I just hold a dream of returning to the earth
My suffering will never run out
As time flows I keep struggling in the dark box