Eternal thirst for creation
When he became like the Lord
The painter believed that some time
He would paint a picture and it will revive
But hours of heavenly inspiration
Could not save for the want

Time out of mind the grief came in our homes
With the dying of dearest man your soul's been becoming the stone
In fit of despair you appealing for heaven's sake
But They don't hear the prayer and she will never wake

He thought, his art, far above the death
And the painter refired, going on paint
While under his city spread the wings
The Black Death and ruled Her ball on the streets

But ruthless evil had touched him by bony hand
She, he loved dying, had lain on deathbed
In fit of despair he appealed for God's sake
But he didn't hear the prayer and she will
Never wake

He cursed the people, he cursed god
He heard the Devil and chose own lot
The black agreement sighed by blood
It remained to blend paints with ash of her heart

By the last touch the portrait finished
And at that instant it came to life
But her cold fingering and spiritless sight
In a flash sobered down his desire
Without the heart she's only lifeless image
Nobody twice bear under these skies

And he cut the canvas, beyond expiation
Shape of the one, he loved turned into ash
In fit of despair he appealed for Devil's sake
But he didn't hear the prayer and she will never wake