Flesh Is Fragile

In the garden where virtue stands tall

Pluck the flowers made of flesh and stone

All statues are risen and damned to fall

It is a world of skin, made of bones

All the flesh is fragile

We're all signed with scars

All the flesh is fragile

Forever shining stars

When golden blood is flooding cold

Liquid bodies are forcing us to sin

Deep down the burning soul

The raining nails are carving in the skin

Carriers of scars - The world is our sin

Beholders of flesh - Hollow within

When red is black and ablaze is horns

Diseases are marked on every page

Hollow bodies dejected with scorn

The last breath of the final age

In the absence of abstract reality

See the sun of the white iris blind

Burning blood in crucifixion ecstasy

It is a world of skin, the noose of life