Waxwork Lyrics - Exhumed

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 

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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 memorialized in wax well-woven and wrapped 

Photos 

Waxwork 

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