In my waxen world, time stands still Forever frozen like flies trapped in amber One perfect moment preserved, just ere the kill Gruesome atrocities transfixed in horror's chamber
Poetry without motion, figures stranded midstream Waxen players in this dark drama of the macabre Mouths agape with terror but breathless to scream No death rattle heard, nor parting sors...
I am preserver of life through my morbid art For each mannequin was truly alive from the start So if the eyes seem to follow your gaze as you gawk Know that in the eyes of the dead, in their shadow you walk...
Cadavers molded in wax as their lives buried away More preening puppets to perform in the scenes that I play Features cast in the moment of dying preserved How they screamed as they met with their fates well deserved...
WAXWORK
Recreating the horror of the moment of death My models serve their purpose quite well Embalm their bodies in wax, capture their dying breath Drain the fluids to stave off the smell
Like dolls that dance to their own funeral dirge They play out their death scenes interminably As prized their exhibits in my dark reserve They unfold their secrets only to me
Life eternal in wax was their death's decree Suffering for my art, they surrendered to me So when their eyes lock with your gaze Look unflinchingly at death or turn away fast...
Skin blistered and softened as it was coated and sealed away Another preserved puppet to prance on the strings that I play The fear ensnared in their captive countenances I've trapped Mummified and memorialised in wax well-woven and wrapped...
WAXWORK
[Lead - Matt]
So sit still in your place at the end of the blade By my design, death's hand find you just out of reach Another player in this deathly silent world that I have made Devoid of sound, fury or motion, sense, movement or speech
Awaiting a terminus that never will come You're a marionette bound by my strings Trussed in this tomb of wax, your time here is not done For time does not quite end all things...
This is my life's work, this still, silent place A monument to the fear frozen in a cold, waxen face Take care not to stare into their eyes, whatever you do When you look deep into death, it sees back into you too...
Flesh bubbled and scalded, as this molten bath washed life away Wax covered my still-screaming prey Another piece for my prizing, recast in my mold Features harden and set as the wax grows stiff and cold...
WAXWORKTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
