歌曲 | Waxwork |
歌手 | Exhumed |
专辑 | Anatomy Is Destiny |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Matt | |
In my waxen world, time stands still | |
Forever frozen like flies trapped in amber | |
One perfect moment preserved, just ere the kill | |
Gruesome atrocities transfixed in horror's chamber | |
Poetry without motion, figures stranded midstream | |
Waxen players in this dark drama of the macabre | |
Mouths agape with terror but breathless to scream | |
No death rattle heard, nor parting sors... | |
I am preserver of life through my morbid art | |
For each mannequin was truly alive from the start | |
So if the eyes seem to follow your gaze as you gawk | |
Know that in the eyes of the dead, in their shadow you walk... | |
Cadavers molded in wax as their lives buried away | |
More preening puppets to perform in the scenes that | |
I play Features cast in the moment of dying preserved | |
How they screamed as they met with their fates well deserved... | |
WAXWORK Recreating the horror of the moment of death | |
My models serve their purpose quite well | |
Embalm their bodies in wax, capture their dying breath | |
Drain the fluids to stave off the smell | |
Like dolls that dance to their own funeral dirge | |
They play out their death scenes interminably | |
As prized their exhibits in my dark reserve | |
They unfold their secrets only to me | |
Life eternal in wax was their death's decree | |
Suffering for my art, they surrendered to me | |
So when their eyes lock with your gaze | |
Look unflinchingly at death or turn away fast... | |
Skin blistered and softened as it was coated and sealed away | |
Another preserved puppet to prance on the strings that | |
I play The fear ensnared in their captive countenances | |
I've trapped | |
Mummified and memorialised in wax well-woven and wrapped... | |
WAXWORK [Lead - Matt] | |
So sit still in your place at the end of the blade | |
By my design, death's hand find you just out of reach | |
Another player in this deathly silent world that | |
I have made | |
Devoid of sound, fury or motion, sense, movement or speech | |
Awaiting a terminus that never will come | |
You're a marionette bound by my strings | |
Trussed in this tomb of wax, your time here is not done | |
For time does not quite end all things... | |
This is my life's work, this still, silent place | |
A monument to the fear frozen in a cold, waxen face | |
Take care not to stare into their eyes, whatever you do | |
When you look deep into death, it sees back into you too... | |
Flesh bubbled and scalded, as this molten bath washed life away | |
Wax covered my still-screaming prey | |
Another piece for my prizing, recast in my mold | |
Features harden and set as the wax grows stiff and cold... | |
WAXWORK |
zuo qu : Matt | |
In my waxen world, time stands still | |
Forever frozen like flies trapped in amber | |
One perfect moment preserved, just ere the kill | |
Gruesome atrocities transfixed in horror' s chamber | |
Poetry without motion, figures stranded midstream | |
Waxen players in this dark drama of the macabre | |
Mouths agape with terror but breathless to scream | |
No death rattle heard, nor parting sors... | |
I am preserver of life through my morbid art | |
For each mannequin was truly alive from the start | |
So if the eyes seem to follow your gaze as you gawk | |
Know that in the eyes of the dead, in their shadow you walk... | |
Cadavers molded in wax as their lives buried away | |
More preening puppets to perform in the scenes that | |
I play Features cast in the moment of dying preserved | |
How they screamed as they met with their fates well deserved... | |
WAXWORK Recreating the horror of the moment of death | |
My models serve their purpose quite well | |
Embalm their bodies in wax, capture their dying breath | |
Drain the fluids to stave off the smell | |
Like dolls that dance to their own funeral dirge | |
They play out their death scenes interminably | |
As prized their exhibits in my dark reserve | |
They unfold their secrets only to me | |
Life eternal in wax was their death' s decree | |
Suffering for my art, they surrendered to me | |
So when their eyes lock with your gaze | |
Look unflinchingly at death or turn away fast... | |
Skin blistered and softened as it was coated and sealed away | |
Another preserved puppet to prance on the strings that | |
I play The fear ensnared in their captive countenances | |
I' ve trapped | |
Mummified and memorialised in wax wellwoven and wrapped... | |
WAXWORK Lead Matt | |
So sit still in your place at the end of the blade | |
By my design, death' s hand find you just out of reach | |
Another player in this deathly silent world that | |
I have made | |
Devoid of sound, fury or motion, sense, movement or speech | |
Awaiting a terminus that never will come | |
You' re a marionette bound by my strings | |
Trussed in this tomb of wax, your time here is not done | |
For time does not quite end all things... | |
This is my life' s work, this still, silent place | |
A monument to the fear frozen in a cold, waxen face | |
Take care not to stare into their eyes, whatever you do | |
When you look deep into death, it sees back into you too... | |
Flesh bubbled and scalded, as this molten bath washed life away | |
Wax covered my stillscreaming prey | |
Another piece for my prizing, recast in my mold | |
Features harden and set as the wax grows stiff and cold... | |
WAXWORK |
zuò qǔ : Matt | |
In my waxen world, time stands still | |
Forever frozen like flies trapped in amber | |
One perfect moment preserved, just ere the kill | |
Gruesome atrocities transfixed in horror' s chamber | |
Poetry without motion, figures stranded midstream | |
Waxen players in this dark drama of the macabre | |
Mouths agape with terror but breathless to scream | |
No death rattle heard, nor parting sors... | |
I am preserver of life through my morbid art | |
For each mannequin was truly alive from the start | |
So if the eyes seem to follow your gaze as you gawk | |
Know that in the eyes of the dead, in their shadow you walk... | |
Cadavers molded in wax as their lives buried away | |
More preening puppets to perform in the scenes that | |
I play Features cast in the moment of dying preserved | |
How they screamed as they met with their fates well deserved... | |
WAXWORK Recreating the horror of the moment of death | |
My models serve their purpose quite well | |
Embalm their bodies in wax, capture their dying breath | |
Drain the fluids to stave off the smell | |
Like dolls that dance to their own funeral dirge | |
They play out their death scenes interminably | |
As prized their exhibits in my dark reserve | |
They unfold their secrets only to me | |
Life eternal in wax was their death' s decree | |
Suffering for my art, they surrendered to me | |
So when their eyes lock with your gaze | |
Look unflinchingly at death or turn away fast... | |
Skin blistered and softened as it was coated and sealed away | |
Another preserved puppet to prance on the strings that | |
I play The fear ensnared in their captive countenances | |
I' ve trapped | |
Mummified and memorialised in wax wellwoven and wrapped... | |
WAXWORK Lead Matt | |
So sit still in your place at the end of the blade | |
By my design, death' s hand find you just out of reach | |
Another player in this deathly silent world that | |
I have made | |
Devoid of sound, fury or motion, sense, movement or speech | |
Awaiting a terminus that never will come | |
You' re a marionette bound by my strings | |
Trussed in this tomb of wax, your time here is not done | |
For time does not quite end all things... | |
This is my life' s work, this still, silent place | |
A monument to the fear frozen in a cold, waxen face | |
Take care not to stare into their eyes, whatever you do | |
When you look deep into death, it sees back into you too... | |
Flesh bubbled and scalded, as this molten bath washed life away | |
Wax covered my stillscreaming prey | |
Another piece for my prizing, recast in my mold | |
Features harden and set as the wax grows stiff and cold... | |
WAXWORK |