1. |
Corpse Sculpture
04:22
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2. |
Pickman's Gallery
04:04
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You don't understand that art is all
I am in turn a maker. A creator
Construct, redefine, sever, tie back
Eye sewn shut so tight
Become the artist
Artistic visions inside of my skull
Breeding in sick lust beyond my control
Bring forth creation from a distant memory
Birthing my new skin for my blood soaked addiction
Flesh ripped from its home
Subject to vigorous articulation
A gored vision. An immaculate sculpture
Stolen artifacts from life's sacred temple
I see the art in you
I see the art and its so beautiful
You don't understand that art is god
I am in turn a maker. A creator.
Construct, redefine, sever, tied back
Eyes sewn shut so right
Become vanity
You don't understand that art is all
I am in turn a maker. A creator
Now you are the art
Transformed. Reborn.
Now you can appreciate yourself.
Live life free of pain
In death you life on in the eyes of the beholder
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3. |
Little Broken Humans
05:31
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|
Thread together the skin
Build the perfect face to wear
Pushing screws underneath nails
Put back together with care
My little broken humans
With your little broken parts
I try to tape up the pieces
But they're still using broken parts
Why won't they fit together?
The skin is melted shut within this blistering piece of mine
The gears won't turn
The fusion of these specimens now form a malfunctioning machine
Beautiful shades of crimson
Cascade down your neck
Veins pulled to the surface
A wonderful piece for me to dissect
Screaming in pain
Tears fill my eyes as I stare into the face of my horrible creation
A mutated disgusting waste of life suffering in every breath of its pathetic existence
My stomach turns at the atrocious sight
A terrible thing i cannot bare to witness
Every breath it takes it anguishes for what feels like eternity
The pieces wont fit in my machine
Struct by a plague of man made assimilation
My little broken humans
With your little broken parts
I try to tape up the pieces
But they're still using broken parts
My little broken human
With your still broken heart
The pieces are in place but can't move
Because they're made of broken parts
What have I done? Oh God, what have I done?
The gears won't turn in my magnificent creation
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4. |
Evil Disco
04:19
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|
Clinging to life
By the static friction
Push it you cannibal
Otsegolation
Not enough to sweat of the bud
So cold we decay
On this Wisconsin death trip
We bled for days
Stand up
Shout out
Sit down
Shut up
Die again
Another hangnail to bitch about
A means to an end
Spread out
Cut up
Bleed dry
These eyes collapse in
Another evil disco lost in the static again
From the fix to the stem
The trance is the motion
40 ways to hold you done
With no submission
Beneath between and beyond
Lets start a war
Skinny man i his dirt house
Really am I alive?
Stand up
Shout out
Sit down
Shut up
Die again
Another hangnail to bitch about
A means to an end
Spread out
Cut up
Bleed dry
These eyes collapse in
Another evil disco lost in the static again
Lost in the static again
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5. |
Absolute Zero
05:08
|
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|
Winter has arrived again
A symbolism so devastating to my rotting eyes
Assimilation of the dread within the depths of my sanity
Bound and gagged slit my throat
Destruction
A scene in the distance
Seen from a distance
You care?
Apathetic or empathetic
Are you bleeding?
Prosthetic life
Absolute zero
Empty words
Denial helps
Feeling frayed, peeled away
Giving way to decay
Separate the skin from my body
Sever the synthetic pseudo meaning from my worthless bones
Bleeding garbage
We continue this pointless endeavor
Winter has arrived again
And I'm still writhing in the same old filth
Winter has arrived again
And Im still inebriated
Still everything remains the same
Stagnant
Move forward through
Absolute zero
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6. |
Decay
03:38
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Found a way
Slow decay
Within gray
Another day
An old friend
A new end
Grain of sand
In a rusted can
Cold Darkness
Feeding succubus
Came and found emptiness here
Found a way
to decay
Not afraid
Kept in wait
Demon spawn
Before dawn
Won't be long
Until its gone
Hard to find
What can't be defined
Came and found emptiness
Cold darkness
Feeding succubus
Came and found emptiness here
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7. |
Corpus Sculptura
06:02
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Moral ambiguity is something to ponder
In one hand a consequence
In the other a martyr
Is art truly subjective
If it is the expression of the soul does that omit any form of taboo?
To further the question at hand
Should a level of authority be established
If one deems the other a misdeed is it out of righteousness or cowardice
So I turn to the man that brought me here
These thoughts, these hands they bleed
To serve my master
My purpose here cannot be mistaken
So what was I left to do
But turn to prayer
On my knees
I gave my pleas
and waited for an answer
and he said..
Build a corpus sculptura
and he screamed...
Build a corpus sculptura
and he sang...
Wandering though my life searching for a purpose
But now that I find permission divine I cry
Hands to the sky
Now I'm alive and I can subside in the worth that he brings to me
No longer lost
With such a little cost
I'm so happy that he hath commanded me
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