[Musick & Lyrixxx - Matt Harvey]



In my waxen world, time stands still

Forever frozen like flies trapped in amber

One perfect moment preserved, just ere the kill

Gruesome atrocities transfixed in horror's chamber



Poetry without motion, figures stranded midstream

Waxen players in this dark drama of the macabre

Mouths agape with terror but breathless to scream

No death rattle heard, nor parting sors...



I am preserver of life through my morbid art

For each mannequin was truly alive from the start

So if the eyes seem to follow your gaze as you gawk

Know that in the eyes of the dead, in their shadow you walk...



Cadavers molded in wax as their lives buried away

More preening puppets to perform in the scenes that I play

Features cast in the moment of dying preserved

How they screamed as they met with their fates well deserved...



WAXWORK



Recreating the horror of the moment of death

My models serve their purpose quite well

Embalm their bodies in wax, capture their dying breath

Drain the fluids to stave off the smell



Like dolls that dance to their own funeral dirge

They play out their death scenes interminably

As prized their exhibits in my dark reserve

They unfold their secrets only to me



Life eternal in wax was their death's decree

Suffering for my art, they surrendered to me

So when their eyes lock with your gaze

Look unflinchingly at death or turn away fast...



Skin blistered and softened as it was coated and sealed away

Another preserved puppet to prance on the strings that I play

The fear ensnared in their captive countenances I've trapped

Mummified and memorialised in wax well-woven and wrapped...



WAXWORK



[Lead - Matt]



So sit still in your place at the end of the blade

By my design, death's hand find you just out of reach

Another player in this deathly silent world that I have made

Devoid of sound, fury or motion, sense, movement or speech



Awaiting a terminus that never will come

You're a marionette bound by my strings

Trussed in this tomb of wax, your time here is not done

For time does not quite end all things...



This is my life's work, this still, silent place

A monument to the fear frozen in a cold, waxen face

Take care not to stare into their eyes, whatever you do

When you look deep into death, it sees back into you too...



Flesh bubbled and scalded, as this molten bath washed life away

Wax covered my still-screaming prey

Another piece for my prizing, recast in my mold

Features harden and set as the wax grows stiff and cold...



WAXWORK