Am I a clockwork man, or a clockwork mouse? Would I still be the same man, if I let my rage out?
Am I a jigsaw piece of a master plan? Or a glimpse of art in a foreign land? Am I a way of seeing, or a way of keeping the peace? Or a weapon of choice inside your hands?
Am I blessed by God, or cursed by The Devil? If I have never lost my temper, how have I learned to stay so civil?
If a box of tricks is Pandoraβs Box; Then why are there no locks on Pandoraβs Box?