Abortion of science, ruler of critters Designed to be sold off to the highest bidder Sign of the end of what's natural Mixture of two seas, flightless admiral Soar above the lands Search for love that it won't find Solus avem Only of its kind Desperately scours through it's desolation Cry out in agony, soul isolation Bitter and hollow It feeds to no end No solace, no kin, it forever distends Soar above the lands Search for love that it won't find Solus avem Only of its kind To belong is its only desire Be embraced by the grass or the fire Will its ardor ever be known? Will there be any end to its throes?