Under The Knife
(专辑: Anatomy Is Destiny - 2003)
Scalpels cleave and reave though crimson rivulets Weaving their cold and malignant minuets Carving out funereal figures in arcane alphabets Scars that will never heal or forget... Like puzzle pieces, set askew, you've come undone The
bleeding is ceaseless, you're turning blue, the
end had begun Set down in writing, flesh, blood and bone, let death be done The
pen is as mighty as the
sword, sticks or stones, your end would be cast In stone, by either one... Tenderly thanatographical threads are tread and traced Boiling blood will serve to warm this cold clinical embrace A
clean precise cut to mark this morbid meeting place This knife point where you and death came face to face... The
slab starts to spin around and around, as I
take your hand in mine We move step by step within, without so much as a
sound, death's dark design in time A
slice to the
left, then cut back to the
right, movements scripted in this dance of the
dead Motions so deft, recalled by touch not by sight, footprints encrypted by blood running red... A
pirouette on razor's edge leaves you breathless The
slab plays host to an incisive macabre ballet A
savage, slicing slaughter of the
senses Now splayed... Under the
knife your death hangs in the
balance, on the
edge of the
blade Remember every slice of this jigsawed demise, and every part that I
payed Cold steel burns like ice leaves you dancing on nothing, loosed by unsteady hands Under the
knife the
caress of steel, just before the
end... Just before the
end... A
bleeding patchwork design, in running scarlet writ Connected wounds intersecting from slit to bloody slit Such a
tangled web of shreds and scars I've knit The
liquid of life, leaks out through the
red at your wrists... May I
have this last dance? as I
take your last breath With a
final flick of my wrist ... Under the
knife your death hangs in the
balance, on the
edge of the
blade Remember every slice of this jigsawed demise, and every part that I
payed Cold steel burns like ice leaves you dancing on nothing, loosed by unsteady hands Under the
knife the
caress of steel, just before the
end...