Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Well of the Artist, artist - Satariel. Date of issue: 03.12.1998
Song language: English
The Well of the Artist |
| I paint in black and white |
| A face appears as my creation on canvas |
| Structured lines expressing the very foundations of chaos |
| These lines are but words |
| Words I read from upon each wall, each scene I behold |
| I swallow the pictures of the surroundings |
| And set them in the womb of my mind |
| The plant grows in my garden obscure |
| From the poisoned ground a flower then rises |
| Black and dead it still grows further more and more |
| And I adore it’s beauty, grace, it’s lonely pride |
| As I summon it’s essence to manifest for me |
| Powers of creations are running through me |
| In trance it’s nature comes undressed to me |
| I then gently dress it in colours, and give it name by words |
| Give it soul by tunes… |
| Soul by tunes! |
| For even the flower that springs from upon the grave |
| Holds a mirror of life itself |
| Yes, even youth and thirsting striving for what’s above |
| But to the grave it’s bound forever |
| My soul must bleed to create |
| As Osiris — I die to be resurrected |
| The pain is the words |
| The tears the real fluid on my brush |
| I am the crying dying one |
| I am the magician |
| For I am the artist |
| And as the world devours me |
| I am resurrected in another one |
| Created from the devastation of myself |
| Devastation of myself! |
| I hear the voices haunt across the spaces |
| They grant me the speech of my world — our world |
| And though they cut me deep, very deep |
| I search them for more as soon as they’re gone |
| They hurt so badly, still its of them I consist |
| There is no real joy in this, purely a need for deed |
| (REPEAT VERSE 5) |
| (REPEAT VERSE 2) |
| I travel by the tears, falling down |
| Into a perfect satisfaction in the soil of the graveyard |