Of Art ans Suffering

I'm the painter of human sorrows Creator of illusion you call life In my studio of higher arts I create masterpieces, one after one Yet there's nothing quite like The art of suffering Masterly I play a symphony With shadows and light For light and da

Is it always dark or am I just blind to light? Is it always cold or has my circulation stalled? My eyes are mere the eyes of a man My soul is cursed, my kind I've damned My chains are mere the chains of a mind My world subconscious expulsion of light