His eye has caught me now I can't escape his gaze The Artist holds me up under the light, appraising me In shame, I cast my eyes to the ground He'll take hold of me, and flesh it out, with vengeance, with a purpose, blade in hand Carve me up, strip away, tear mine down, my shape is yet to come When will I rouse, from the perfect rest he give? How will the world see me then, as his own, his masterpiece His eye has caught me now I can't escape his gaze The Artist holds me up under the light, appraising me In shame, I cast my eyes to the ground My twisted shape and burdened thoughts will be severed Sorrow will fade with my nature restored, my nature renewed The shape He wants, that I can't see; Is the essence He grants I've carried the waste, shapeless and vague, for so long it clings to me Pieces will fall, they will be swept away; The Artist will restore me