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 doctor's work is now obsession What is life? What's beyond? He wants to know what it's like to be God Creating life with his own hands To reanimate lifeless tissues The Devil's 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 can't I? No thought of the consequences I've got to know the meaning of life
Lightning strikes, it's the witching hour The monstrosity comes alive A victim of man's vanity Born in delirium, a deranged child He turns his back on his own creation Chaos ensues, the innocent die Who's the monster? Who's the victim?