[Intro] [(Whispers layered beneath the vocal)] Don't look twice... They know your name... They've been waiting... Inside the frame... [Verse 1] Every portrait's got a pulse beneath the cracking oil skin, Silent little witnesses that never seem to blink. Dust hangs heavy like a funeral caught inside the light, Every hallway grows another pair of eyes at night. Grandmother said, "Never stare too long into their face..." Now I hear them breathing from the empty fireplace. Paint is only flesh that's learned to harden into stone, Every masterpiece is something that just wants a home. Hands are reaching through the canvas... Fingernails against the wood... Smile a little wider... They can almost taste your blood... --- [Pre-Chorus] If they whisper... Don't answer. If they smile... Don't move. If one of them looks different... You're already doomed. --- [Chorus] The demons in the paintings... Watch while nobody believes. They drink the fear you're hiding And they breathe when you sleep. Every frame's another doorway, Every shadow hides a grin. They steal the souls of innocence... ...then paint your face within. [Verse 2] Little girl with porcelain eyes wasn't there before, Yesterday her hands were folded—now they're on the floor. Hunter in the crimson forest slowly turns his head, Every single brushstroke wants another soul unfed. Hear the scratching in the plaster... Hear the laughter in the hall... Every missing person's photograph Was never gone at all. They're collecting... They're preserving... Every scream becomes a stain. Every victim lives forever... Trapped beneath the paint. [Bridge] [(Spoken with distorted whispers beneath)] Don't touch the canvas... Don't wipe away the tears... They're not painted... They're still crying... Can you hear them? They don't haunt the paintings... The paintings haunt us. [Breakdown] Walls are breathing! Frames are bleeding! Faces twisting into mine! Every hallway! Every bedroom! Every picture out of time! No reflection! No escape! Every mirror shows the same! The artist died... The brush survived... And now it knows my name! [Final Chorus] The demons in the paintings... Patient as disease. Watching every heartbeat Through a thousand centuries. Every child who wandered closer, Every skeptic who looked in... Became another portrait... Forever trapped... Beneath the skin. [Outro] When the gallery is empty... And every light has died... Count the paintings. Tomorrow... There'll be one more.
