| Mr. Eggman, I am at my most vunerable, I am at my weakest, I feel darkness in my heart, There is nothing there, Nothing. Mr. Eggman, My heart is a house of worms, All that life teaches me, . . . is that I am deformed, I am not, I am none. Mr. Eggman, My thoughts on this and that, Are my only saving grace, Ambition, Motivation, Discipline, These only govern my life in general, Not my heart, Not my soul. Mr. Eggman, I am vunerable and weak, I am an egg shell, Something is growing inside me, But it is not fertilized, Just an ooze, Waiting to be devoured. Mr. Eggman, What is needed? What will unify me? What will make me whole? What will open my heart, And allow me to see with my eyes? What will bring, This darkness to a surmise? Who will bring light into my life? Who will take away my strife? Hey Mister Eggman, I am just an egg, man |