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I'm the painter of human sorrows |
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Creator of illusion you call life |
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In my studio of higher arts |
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I create masterpieces, one after one |
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Yet there's nothing quite like |
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The art of suffering |
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Masterly I play a symphony |
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With shadows and light |
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For light and darkness |
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Are just states of human mind |
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And when you drift to sleep |
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Your mind belongs to me |
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The art of dreaming becomes real |
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Nothing is what it seems |
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So surreal |
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This world I lay before your eyes |
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Another brush stroke |
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Another nail to the lid |
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You can try to scream |
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But no one hears |
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My canvas is black |
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And stained with tears |
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This world I lay before your eyes |
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Another brush stroke |
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Another nail to the lid |
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You can try to scream |
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But no one hears |
|
My canvas is black |
|
And stained with tears |
|
For light and darkness |
|
Are just states of human mind |
|
And when you drift to sleep |
|
Your mind belongs to me |
|
The art of dreaming becomes real |
|
Nothing is what it seems |
|
So surreal |
