To C

You think I look through Satan's eyes
 Or are they watching over me?
 You never asked my biography
 So I tell you the facts, that you can't see
 It's true, my painting is depressive
 The crying man, the dying child
 The pregnant woman screaming
 The prisoned devil with eyes open wide
 A sculpture out of painted bones
 You've seen the two ladies with a biten dick
 Lyrics about the relieving death
 That's reason enough to declare: I am sick?
 Are you sick?
 Hell and back the road
 For hating you, for hating you
 Should I be locked away?
 If you knew kinds of atrocity
 You'd know I just give vent to my anger
 My only possibility to digest
 Without it, I couldn't live any longer
 Duplicate love until adoration
 Imagine the loss within a few seconds
 Profounded pain you can't resist
 Just by thinking about what happened
 Hell and back the road
 For hating you, for hating you
 Am I sick?
 Should I be locked away
 You are sick!