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?
