Pain says – Wake up, through splinters of the memories
To find out the [bad word] in broken glass
Red drops , they glue the puzzle of my senses
The morning sun will light my hands in blood

All is going away as I gone insane, I fed my demons with the blood I’ve shed
I am now entering the tragedy of my own killing nature

When life is an error, it’s so meaningless to feel the regrets
My own destination – world painted in red…Let it bleed

I hunt , I creep about the pray behind you
Addicted to the shredding – [bad word] The overwrap one day [bad word] your sindon
I’ll see you soon in body bag

When life is an error, it’s so meaningless to feel the regrets
My own destination – world painted in red…Let it bleed

The sculptor of scarification, an artist with a blade instead of [bad word] Abluted by the crimson rivers, I beg you to witness my art
My scenes filled with red lined fibers, My drama of a last breath and delight
The howling of a withering razors prepares you to join my art….

When life is an error, it’s so meaningless to feel the regrets
My own destination – world painted in red…Let it bleed