| I’m feeling artistic
|
| I’m drawing lines
|
| My body is my canvas
|
| I’m making marks in time
|
| Feel the coldness
|
| Feel nothing inside
|
| Caress the smoothness and watch it slide
|
| Uh-oh, here I go
|
| Playing with blades
|
| Again and again
|
| Uh-oh, here I go
|
| Playing with blades
|
| Again and again and again and again
|
| No one seems to notice
|
| That I don’t seem to care
|
| It’s my decision, my own life
|
| And I don’t intend to share
|
| It’s not a question of sanity
|
| Or reaction to something said
|
| No desire to be analysed
|
| For fascination with red
|
| Uh-oh, here I go
|
| Playing with blades
|
| Again and again
|
| Uh-oh, here I go
|
| Playing with blades
|
| Again and again and again and again
|
| Uh-oh, here I go
|
| Playing with blades
|
| Again and again
|
| Uh-oh, here I go
|
| Playing with blades
|
| Again and again and again
|
| And again and again and again |