Текст песни The Art Of Lunacy

Works of Art by flesh and blood Pictures sculptures made of corpses The more beautyfull they are the more painfull was their dead I made them by myself, I killed them with my hands This must be the work of a genious they say When they visit my little gallery Big satisfied eyes they can´t get enough The don´t realize that they´re watching death A mother buyed a statue of bones For the grave of her murdered son His screams were so loud as I skinned him alive Now this statue makes her smile They praise me they love me they give me all Trust and honour a piece of their soul I am whatever they want me to be But I hide a cruel secret their eyes never see Alone I walk through the hall of all lies Speaking and thinking bout what I´ve created Is it me who speaks is it me who thinks Or one of those creatures they´ll soon be my end