A pale cadaver that I see,
Cold and limp before my feet
A perfect portrait of the obscene,
But here and now it brings intrigue.
A death like a perfect Broadway play
Lost yourself in such a way.
Tempted so many times to slay,
but only now has come that day.
Flesh and bone without a soul
The canvas fades as you turn cold
Stiffening limbs and rotting flesh
My art that truly took your breath
Now I put you on display
This museum that became your grave
In the chair I sit with pride
Satisfaction in my eyes
Despite the fate that waits for me
The price of creating my masterpiece.