Tanned to perfection and torn from another.
We dress to impress and some to enhance this masquerade.
Red wine in crystal glass as you are in agony upon the precipice of this plane’s escape.
So restricting our forms as the tattoo reminds of borrowed suit’s owner.
We can disembowel another and eternally dissect ourselves.
Did she know enough pain in the deceit?
Burn of blade, emptiness of deaths promise.
A slumber’s intrusion, a lock’s hope, and barred windows lie.
Painted truths cast from your life's very essence.
How is it to die for another's art?
My sweetest canvas of near unrecognizable flesh.
I will wear you well.
We dress to impress and some to enhance this masquerade.
Red wine in crystal glass as you are in agony upon the precipice of this plane’s escape.
So restricting our forms as the tattoo reminds of borrowed suit’s owner.
We can disembowel another and eternally dissect ourselves.
Did she know enough pain in the deceit?
Burn of blade, emptiness of deaths promise.
A slumber’s intrusion, a lock’s hope, and barred windows lie.
Painted truths cast from your life's very essence.
How is it to die for another's art?
My sweetest canvas of near unrecognizable flesh.
I will wear you well.
Murders Row are a group of artists who choose to remain anonymous.
Their art is dark as so often is life.
That is all that needs to be said.
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