Your innocence Makes me sick Violent death You will get Flesh is stripped Head to toe Your last cries Excite my soul I know you're thinking That it's over The horror I've given Your mind Yet it's far from being over There's still more work To be done You see your flesh to me Is precious It stimulates my sickened mind To me your flesh is just a canvas For my sick thought to Flow like wine All I see is flesh before me Nothing less and nothing more Just an object of amusement You worthless fucking whore Lacerated flesh The sculpture takes it's form It makes me warm inside Your flesh is silky smooth It makes a useful tool Your outer shell is gone What was inside is now out My sculpture now complete I have your flesh to thank It seems like such a waste To burn or bury the dead When flesh can be reused To make my sculptures live