I am a painter of death
I will paint the white red
For the only good
Is that of red
There is no other colour
No other way
For blood must run
The colour red.
I will paint a master piece
Of blood,
Of flesh,
Of Bone,
The master piece
Of the knife.
The blood will run
The paint is red
I will paint many pictures
They are of,
Pain,
Suffering,
Cruelty,
They drip with each stroke.
I will paint
With the cruelty
That is me,
**The canvas will run red.