Could be called a beautifully made mess

A torn new dress shot through with silver threads

Decorated coffin rotten inside

Well, the lid is as free as a lame leg

Unsheathe your sword and cut my humble skin

Pain I may feel which make us feel alive

But will you be able to stand the sight?

A gentle pool that will have been set wild

Looking at me with eyes that give me chills

Like I'm a god on the throne, that's so sick

I am flesh and blood just like the next man

Walking on a slippery floor, cursed to fall

When the ice starts to crack under my feet

All I shall give to stay above water