Creation of Death
A corpse lies on a bed of blood
It's face bashed in by the beatings of mi fists
Its rendered damp air
Reminds me of every sound
Each of this sounds translated into notes
This pain travels
Through a perfect sound wave
And rhythm recalls death
I can listen to every blow
Of its head against the floor
Leading me to compose this raw art
I can listen to every blow
Of its head against the floor
Leading me to compose this raw death
A corpse lies on a bed of blood
This blood scours my face
So aching and warm
A corpse lies on a bed of blood
It's face bashed in by the beatings of mi fists
Its rendered damp air
Reminds me of every sound
Each of this sounds translated into notes
This pain travels
Through a perfect sound wave
And rhythm recalls... death | 
