Can't you see that I am not a part

Of your foul fucking love?

Can't you realize that I do not live in dream

And misanthropy is my spiritual infinity

I play on the strings of mankind

But my symphony is requiem

And the great number of concentration camps

Cover the blood-coloured earth

War funeral march

Is the play on my stage

Holocaust of the races

Is the act number one

I am the artist who creating

The art of homicide

I draw the future of mankind -

Pits full of corpses, crematoriums

Creating the abhorrent masterpiece -

The world of the steelhearted ones

In my play you can't find the scenes of love

They are buried in blood neath concentration
camps

On my drawings you can't find the bright colours

Your future coloured in black and red

But I am the artist, the creator

My drawings made of blood of mankind

And in your eyes I'm the God who creating

The art of homicide...