The Vision Bleak - He Who Paints The Black Of The Night lyrics

A painter I have been For as long as I can think But never quenched the feather Into the firkin of black ink My motif's been of beauty Diluted and too light My stroke of brush is worthless Until I paint the blackest night A darkened empty room A screen in dreadful white Waiting for the flame Of inspiration to ignite So I begin my work I sweep the brush through black A line on the horizon Now there is no coming back But to my great excitement Like in a secret rite With trembling hand I paint And fill the cloth with night Deeper and deeper I fall into trance I am led by a sorcerous hand With d**h in my eyes And madness at heart Grandeur is cast into art Of the shadow, of the sin And d**h therein And darkness fills my sky Of the brave and seldom kin Is he who paints the night By a magic arrangement And the a**istance of fate Stroke by stroke I descend Into the abyss I create Deeper and deeper I fall into trance I am led by a sorcerous hand With d**h in my eyes And madness at heart Grandeur is cast into art Of the shadow, of the sin And d**h therein And darkness fills my sky Of the brave and seldom kin Is he who paints the night From that secret fountain Henceforth I will be fed Never shall I leave its haunt Until the day I hail the dead I vomit on your junk And piss on your false sk** You shall never understand The glory of good and ill Shadow, darkness, d**h and sin Half off from this pack You will never be complete Until you paint the night in black