|
Your smile so dim, your eyes alive |
|
A gesture hides a vicious lie |
|
Your face so clean, but deep inside |
|
I know you're hiding something |
|
A trace so faint, a chisel's scar |
|
Carved piece by piece who you are |
|
His head held high, but deep inside |
|
I know you're hiding something |
|
Pieta, you're the one and only truly holy sculpture |
|
So now... sentenced by the divine tool I wheel he falls down |
|
A crack and crackle, a thin black sear |
|
Upon the surface pale and raw |
|
Frozen for now, neatly carved |
|
Deep in silence, clutching at straws |
|
I crush the face, the crumbling lines |
|
An expanding maze that seems alive |
|
Again alone, you're face is gone |
|
Still I see no confession coming from |
|
Your soul, your core, your hand, your son |
|
Still I know you're hiding something |
|
I sit and wait, then un-create |
|
My mind confused and filled with hate |
|
I marvel at our common fate |
|
Still I know you're hiding something |
|
Pieta, you're the one and only truly holy sculpture |
|
So now... sentenced by the divine tool I wheel he falls down |
|
Another crack upon the marble |
|
Disfigurement I don't even enjoy |
|
I see it now, though in vain |
|
I see how perfect art is pain |
|
And as I make you dissolve |
|
I see the secret that I have destroyed |
