Music by Theatre of Tragedy Instrumental
Poem by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy Harken! - teh clouds musterd in dark - So painfully easing. Hush! - hearest ye the yew doting; Its years
"O soft embalmer of ye still midnight, Allow me thee to adown Of an sort thou fancieth; Each holdeth its own fancy, I say - Yet the pleasure we partake
She fills the rich kitsch niche where she sits Making chit-chat, this and that, from the bits Consumed, perfumed, detracts the room despite Glowing, knowing
funeral thou'lt hark, swarth murderess - the Devil, Thine feral grith with me, Poppaea, be Hell's hap: Waylaid the beldame bawd, the niggard: Laughing tragedy
"Filthy harlots - the Lord's grape! With lore ornamented entreating; Hollow-hearted, heart-departed - Yet thou reapest the blooming rose - When 'tis the
funeral thou'lt hark, swarth murderess - the Devil, Thine feral grith with me, Poppea, be Hell's hap; Waylaid the beldame bawd, the niggard: Laughing tragedy
Electric broadcast The new transmission waves Turn the dial Recieve the news Transistor radio We've tuned in to the ether melody The deadpan voice I want
Car-crash and an elevator Make you someone else Never try yourself Restore you Bop 'till you're fagged out Tick-tock clock and teddy boys Open windows
Here we are, we stand in line One more time today, there is no sense The cigarette in hand, it?s all gone bad No name, privilege, no hope and fame We
Whether He the quaint savant's power doth hold I know not, Albeit aetat a thousand stars' birth He is - Quoth I that for reasons to me oblivious August
Cede the wherefores and do na chide, Maybe I am peenging - ween of joy; Cede the wherefores and do na chide - Thrawn and slab of leer I hold thee, and
"E'er and anon, thence hither - Yore of this glum gauntness. Ye eavesdroppest to my plea - Tarry not thy fealty! Stint this bereavement dear friend! -
[Instrumental]
[something in russian] Space age pioneers Exporing the outer spheres Stars, planets, cosmos Sterne, Planeten, Kosmos [russian again]
Haste not thine wisdom, for the hollow is ta'en - By whom, know I not; 'lack! am I of twain - And as a crux - cede I my words - Fro my heart wilt thou
Can you see the storm getting closer now? Tell me how it feels being out there A moment's glimpse of his vignette As he shone a light on the falling
I run as fast as I can to get a ride To ride on this wave is all I dream of I run as fast as I can to get a ride To ride on this wave is all I dream