Chip The Black Boy - Bastard of Andromeda

{Man}
It's an inanimate object, it's not gonna hurt you, Agnes

{Woman}
I feel like it's watching me. I don't like it...

{Chip}
Who pulls the string?
Who commands the king? Am I really a real boy or am I a decoy? What is real? What is it to feel? Can I
Heal my wounds with the goldenseal? Can the heat of the hearth of the earth emerging from the cracks in the tomb keep my blood surging? The phantom limb deep within me might just be my own. Sticks and stones for bones. Every word is a lie. I cannot be hurt, cannot cry, cannot die. Who am I? I'm you, a
Lone soul split in two, a single cell in a solitary staging, a random act, a god in the making

Singing the story that you're creating, a smokestack blackening the sunlight fading. I am the center of the sideshow, apple headed iris in the shadow of the tight rope

I tow the line, walk the row, sow the seeds of space, lace the bootstraps and fasten the cape
I bob in the currents of angry inbred apes fighting for time in a make-believe arena
Ballerinas and cowboys are busy shooting daisies, making babies
Raising beds for dirt naps and funds for memorials: corporeal rewards for crimes against the soil
Recreating tragedies in puppetry theaters. One man handles another. Who's greater? You can be here now but must pay later. Who controls the fate of the snake trainer?
I am the chip in the paint of the hearse
I am the crack in the TV monitor. I am the bastard of Andromeda
I am the bastard of Andromeda