[Rolf Müller]
Who am I?
When I was little, every time I looked in the mirror I saw a stranger staring back at me
And he was very very angry
What could I do with all this anger?
Hot, vibrating electricity with no place to ground it
If he couldn't release his rage, maybe I could help him hide it
I never felt comfortable in my own skin
So I made a new one
When I slip it on, he and I became one
His anger became mine
As did his thirst for justice
So, "Who am I?"
If I knew the answer for that
I wouldn't be wearing a fucking mask