Flesh Art Lyrics

Once again my great sculptor approaches to me, creator of works of meat grafted vile and maliciously. He has still not finished sewing the last member to his new creation and this is shaken and even fishtailed in it's last convulsions. It comforts me to see how organs, extremities and even eyes and heads are shaken and even united to other pieces of other bodies. Is the monstrosity done art. It's the beauty of the sadism inserted in vomit, excrements, guts and bones altar. What it doesn't compromise the sculpture is used like putrid and infected strongpoint. Is to share the pain and the crudity by a thread of macabre madness. When this living and suffering sculpture losts it's sense existence and suffering are over. The exit of all this consists in searching it on that great store, the streets, the city, the world. Some more raw material with whom this gallery of fear and terror will be able to continue. Museum of shouts, hatred, rages and meat. Is the monstrosity done art. It's the beauty of the sadism inserted in vomits, excrements, guts and bones altar.