Lyrics

Peeling the layers To expose the facts Was like spraying And ancient painting With ammonia Faces melted Colours turned pale Shapes lost their vivacity And essences faded To distracted blurs Now the canvas is all white And my hands are unsoiled Still all reasons seems replaced By the false notion of a lucid portrait Yet again, the savage remains This empty work of art still gains a crowd The blind eagerly discuss The liveliness of its colours And the deaf insist It's accompanied by quiet chants The painter A highly praised But anonymous deity Lurks in the periphery of the exhibition Amused by the fuzz he is causing Despite his many flaws The canvas is all white And my hands are unsoiled Still all reasons seems replaced By the false notion of a lucid portrait