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3. Janis Joplin - Cry Baby
Theatre Of Tragedy - Black As The Devil Painteth
Előadó: | Theatre Of Tragedy |
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Album: | Keressük! |
Szövegírók: | Keressük a szövegírót! |
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Zeneszerzők: | Keressük a zeneszerzőt! |
Kiadó: | Keressük! |
Stílus: | Keressük! |
Címkék: | Keressük! |
Megtekintve: Ma 1, összesen 958 alkalommal
Dalszöveg
An artist is what is call'd the self the brush holdeth -
Though hath it then caringly caress'd the Canvas of tomorrow?
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-hued arch'neath the High Heaven's rich emblazonry
The flowery meadow, embrac'd by the horizon -
Snowflaked and aery mountains,
In which the barebreasted maidens dance to the lay o'midsummer,
Aloft the distant lazy flapping of the doves in vaingfore.
O Canvas! wherefore canst thou these images not allow? -
I deem a projection of my Theatre they sould be! -
Then, I challenge thee the wisdom of naysaying the yearns o'mine -
What is this unforeseen that not enjoyneth light
Shades to be skillfully painted?
The raven sky prey'd on by the snowfill'd, blustery clouds
Unadorned the meadow - hunger driveth the wolf out of the wood,
The maidens chained and whipped within a dreary dungeon -
And, fo! 'twixt the wizen roses a mossy grave;
\"The Devil is as Black as He Painteth\" -
O Canvas! wherefore?...
Though hath it then caringly caress'd the Canvas of tomorrow?
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-hued arch'neath the High Heaven's rich emblazonry
The flowery meadow, embrac'd by the horizon -
Snowflaked and aery mountains,
In which the barebreasted maidens dance to the lay o'midsummer,
Aloft the distant lazy flapping of the doves in vaingfore.
O Canvas! wherefore canst thou these images not allow? -
I deem a projection of my Theatre they sould be! -
Then, I challenge thee the wisdom of naysaying the yearns o'mine -
What is this unforeseen that not enjoyneth light
Shades to be skillfully painted?
The raven sky prey'd on by the snowfill'd, blustery clouds
Unadorned the meadow - hunger driveth the wolf out of the wood,
The maidens chained and whipped within a dreary dungeon -
And, fo! 'twixt the wizen roses a mossy grave;
\"The Devil is as Black as He Painteth\" -
O Canvas! wherefore?...
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