Organic Canvas Lyrics
| Song | Organic Canvas |
| Artist | Darkane |
| Album | Layers of Lies |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Malmström, Wildoer | |
| I live for what you would call filth and disgust | |
| Someone's loss of blood will power and light my veins | |
| I will paint the colour red all over your pitiful world | |
| I have the knowledge of making art of your pathetic body | |
| A precise stab in your spine and you body is paralysed | |
| But your vision still works, you can witness the pain | |
| You only see it as cut wounds, I consider it art, painted in the flesh | |
| A quick snap and the lights are out. | |
| The absence of skin and the tearing of flesh | |
| People will be chocked by my new exhibition | |
| Ten different pieces of agonising death | |
| I'm in position, I'll re-create what's left. | |
| You think my work is done with rage and hatred, | |
| But you're so wrong: it's done with passion | |
| I carefully select what will be my organic canvas | |
| Mankind need to discover the beauty of agony. | |
| What am I becoming? | |
| What have I become? | |
| Here I am, becoming the final work | |
| A burning self-portrait | |
| Why am I becoming what I am? | |
| You seem to find my expressive art so chocking | |
| Those who discover my work never really seem to appreciate them | |
| Watch me perform this masterpiece. Nothing gets more real | |
| A signature written in fresh blood | |
| What am I becoming? | |
| What have I become? | |
| Here I am, becoming the final work | |
| A burning self-portrait | |
| Why am I becoming what I am? |
| zuo ci : Malmstr m, Wildoer | |
| I live for what you would call filth and disgust | |
| Someone' s loss of blood will power and light my veins | |
| I will paint the colour red all over your pitiful world | |
| I have the knowledge of making art of your pathetic body | |
| A precise stab in your spine and you body is paralysed | |
| But your vision still works, you can witness the pain | |
| You only see it as cut wounds, I consider it art, painted in the flesh | |
| A quick snap and the lights are out. | |
| The absence of skin and the tearing of flesh | |
| People will be chocked by my new exhibition | |
| Ten different pieces of agonising death | |
| I' m in position, I' ll recreate what' s left. | |
| You think my work is done with rage and hatred, | |
| But you' re so wrong: it' s done with passion | |
| I carefully select what will be my organic canvas | |
| Mankind need to discover the beauty of agony. | |
| What am I becoming? | |
| What have I become? | |
| Here I am, becoming the final work | |
| A burning selfportrait | |
| Why am I becoming what I am? | |
| You seem to find my expressive art so chocking | |
| Those who discover my work never really seem to appreciate them | |
| Watch me perform this masterpiece. Nothing gets more real | |
| A signature written in fresh blood | |
| What am I becoming? | |
| What have I become? | |
| Here I am, becoming the final work | |
| A burning selfportrait | |
| Why am I becoming what I am? |
| zuò cí : Malmstr m, Wildoer | |
| I live for what you would call filth and disgust | |
| Someone' s loss of blood will power and light my veins | |
| I will paint the colour red all over your pitiful world | |
| I have the knowledge of making art of your pathetic body | |
| A precise stab in your spine and you body is paralysed | |
| But your vision still works, you can witness the pain | |
| You only see it as cut wounds, I consider it art, painted in the flesh | |
| A quick snap and the lights are out. | |
| The absence of skin and the tearing of flesh | |
| People will be chocked by my new exhibition | |
| Ten different pieces of agonising death | |
| I' m in position, I' ll recreate what' s left. | |
| You think my work is done with rage and hatred, | |
| But you' re so wrong: it' s done with passion | |
| I carefully select what will be my organic canvas | |
| Mankind need to discover the beauty of agony. | |
| What am I becoming? | |
| What have I become? | |
| Here I am, becoming the final work | |
| A burning selfportrait | |
| Why am I becoming what I am? | |
| You seem to find my expressive art so chocking | |
| Those who discover my work never really seem to appreciate them | |
| Watch me perform this masterpiece. Nothing gets more real | |
| A signature written in fresh blood | |
| What am I becoming? | |
| What have I become? | |
| Here I am, becoming the final work | |
| A burning selfportrait | |
| Why am I becoming what I am? |
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