| Slumped in the hall of modern culture
|
| In silence I behold
|
| Frustrated psychos rant and rave
|
| Gone are those times when revolutions
|
| Led by intellectuals
|
| Subverted certainties for grace
|
| I need to stay alive
|
| To shape the archetype
|
| Define the undefined
|
| A demiurge at war
|
| Breaking laws and painting outside the frame
|
| I mark old grounds with my new trace
|
| Forever disobey
|
| Pissing on the score that cages my dare
|
| I forge the soundtrack of your decay
|
| A sweet melody of disgrace will blow you cunts away
|
| Fuck you
|
| Dried is the pen as much as the inkwell
|
| Affected by a creative drought
|
| And blank remains the parchment
|
| Once florid land of beauty
|
| Deaf, take refuge in chromatic illusions
|
| To hide the emptiness
|
| Self-styled composers basely sell smoke while
|
| I need to stay alive
|
| To shape the archetype
|
| Define the undefined
|
| A demiurge at war
|
| Breaking laws and painting outside the frame
|
| I mark old grounds with my new trace
|
| Forever disobey
|
| Pissing on the score that cages my dare
|
| I forge the soundtrack of your decay
|
| A sweet melody of disgrace will blow you cunts away
|
| Art is a serious thing
|
| You can’t dishonour it
|
| And let your name live forever
|
| Come earn your fame through the highest sacrifice
|
| Come immolate your life
|
| Breaking laws and painting outside the frame
|
| I mark old grounds with my new trace
|
| Forever disobey
|
| Pissing on the score that cages my dare
|
| I forge the soundtrack of your decay
|
| A sweet melody of disgrace will blow you cunts away
|
| Forever disobey
|
| A sweet melody of disgrace will blow you bastards away |