My razors are trained to mark a surface 
Every time I fall 
it forces me to punish my skin 
Remorse has proved to be a sadist 
And I don't care at all 
if people see the shape I am in 

Day by Day 
another conflict causes to cut the flesh 
And if these wounds fail to show the truth 
I got to cut even deeper 

The scars are true art of expression 
Signs of tragedy 
With no doubt sick -but keeping alive 
My way to let out all aggression 
A different therapy 
Possible with the blade of a knife 

But I can't find my soul . . .