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You tread, as if you confidently march with life
You made a painting of yourself
Of despair, of sadness, of suffering
Brass statue, the art

You become intoxicated by your own existence every night
You complain on you fate plaintively
You don't have it easy to be rejected
But you see the hope and you have desire
You know

You trusted there's something in this life
Something, that permits you to have desire
Desire of devotion yourself completely
And you know he'll accept you
He'll cool your temple

You await to nestle in the art with death
And it will lead you along your dreams
You want to finish so impatiently
To be with it as one and everything

And the world salutes with torment
Bending over you with day it flogs you

You've turned your life to battle
And death-shaped art you named

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