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 down to the ground He'll take hold of me, and flesh it out, With purpose, with a vengeance, 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 gives? 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 down to the ground My twisted shape and burdened thoughts will be severed Sorrow will fade with my nature restored, my nature renewed When will I rouse, from the perfect rest he give?
How will the world see me then, as his own, his masterpiece 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, be swept away; The Artist will restore me back to mediaTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
