Текст песни Theatre Of Tragedy - Black as the Devil Painteth (remix), слова песни Theatre Of Tragedy

Текст песни Theatre Of Tragedy - Black as the Devil Painteth (remix)

Theatre Of Tragedy - Black as the Devil Painteth (remix) слова песни

An artist is what is call`d the self that the brush holdeth -
Though hath it then caringly caress`d the Canvas of to-morrow?,
O Canvas! for thee I hold my tool - still! passionless it quivereth,
Minding not that my hands are more than apt;
My Muse,

Where is hidden
The blue-huйd arch`neath the High Heaven`s rich emblazonry,
The flowery meadow, embrac`d by the horizon - snowflakйd and
aery mountains,
In which the barebreastйd maidens dance to the lay o` midsummer,
Aloft the distant lazy flapping of the doves in vainglore.

O Canvas!, wherefore canst thou these images not allow? -
I deem a projection of my Theatre they should be! -
Then, I challenge thee the wisdom of naysaying the yearns o` mine -
What is this unforseen that not enjoineth light shades to be
skillfully paintйd?

The raven sky prey`d on by the snowfill`d, blustery clouds,
Unadornйd the meadow - hunger driveth the wolf out of the wood,
The maidens chainйd and whippйd within a dreary dungeon -
And, lo! `twixt the wizen roses a mossy grave:
"The Devil is as Black as he Painteth" -
O Canvas! wherefore?...

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Theatre Of Tragedy

Black as the Devil Painteth (remix)

Текст песни Theatre Of Tragedy - Black as the Devil Painteth (remix)

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