Awaken like a distant concept
So pure and weak inside
Alone in the rolling cradle
Just learning the Art
Lifelines on the waxing canvas
Paintdrowned innocence
Stains on once-noble answers
(Are) weakening, weakening
Oh, look and see as the madness is
Overhelming, the dying
Saints and the lurking nightmares
On the fresco’s darkest scenes
Could ever the canvas be filled
Or just the paint would run out
As tears dilute the portrait
Tears dilute the portrait
Oh, look and see that as the strength diminishes
And blood colored are all the shapes
The shades are beyond all that human – so strange
The final touch discolour the paint
Dying like forgotten concepts
So cold and weak inside
Alone in the rotting cradle
With a picture, with a picture done |
