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Night by night his hunger grows larger.

Abominated visionaire, his mind becomes darker.

He was left alone with no one to love.

Traumatized, neurotic, no help from above.

The first time he tasted fresh blood.

He was addicted, he felt like a god.

When one's life hangs by a thread in you hands.

You have the power to decide will it last.

I am what I'm meant to be.

I am what you made me.

I'm a sick motherfucker with a self-image confusion.

Inside of me there lives something.

That I've tried to find a meaning.

I run away from masquearade.

These faces, I fear them.

They remind me of something that I saw.

When I looked inside. When I tore you open

and turned you inside out.

The entrails were dancing in front of me .

I was molded by hate, I yearn to mutilate.

No death shall be swift, it has to be earned as a gift.

I am what I'm meant to be.

I am what you made me.

I'm a sick motherfucker with a self-image confusion.

Submissive as I've always been I gave in to the temption.

Warm blood running trough my hands, it's time for a redemption.

I sew you a little dress my love. We can hide from them together tonight.

You promised that you love me forever. Now you're mine forever.

It just feels so good when I am in you.

I am what I'm meant to be.

I am what you made me.

I'm a sick motherfucker with a self-image confusion.

Get out of my head.

Don't come closer.

Is there more truth living inside.

Or am I sick?