I live for what you would call filth and disgust
Someone's loss of blood will power and light my veins
I will paint the colour red all over your pitiful world
I have the knowledge of making art of your pathetic body
A precise stab in your spine and you body is paralysed
But your vision still works, you can witness the pain
You only see it as cut wounds, I consider it art, painted in the flesh
A quick snap and the lights are out.
The absence of skin and the tearing of flesh
People will be chocked by my new exhibition
Ten different pieces of agonising d**h
I'm in position, I'll re-create what's left.
You think my work is done with rage and hatred,
But you're so wrong: it's done with pa**ion
I carefully select what will be my organic canvas
Mankind need to discover the beauty of agony.
What am I becoming?
What have I become?
Here I am, becoming the final work
A burning self-portrait
Why am I becoming what I am?
[Lead: Ideberg]
[Noise: Malmstr?m]
You seem to find my expressive art so chocking
Those who discover my work never really seem to appreciate them
Watch me perform this masterpiece. Nothing gets more real
A signature written in fresh blood
What am I becoming?
What have I become?
Here I am, becoming the final work
A burning self-portrait
Why am I becoming what I am?