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Тексты песен Список исполнителейА  Б  В  Г  Д  Е  Ё  Ж  З  И  К  Л  М  Н  О  П  Р  С  Т  У  Ф  Х  Ц  Ч  Ш  Э  Ю  Я  A  B  C  D  E  F  G  H  I  J  K  L  M  N  O  P  R  S  T  U  V  W  X  Y  Z   Текст (слова) песни: Theatre Of Tragedy - Black As The Devil Painteth [RMX v2]An artist is what is calld the self that the brush holdeth - Though hath it then caringly caressd 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-hued archneath the High Heavens rich emblazonry, The flowery meadow, embracd 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 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 painted? The raven sky preyd on by the snowfilld, blustery clouds, Unadorned the meadow - hunger driveth the wolf out of the wood, The maidens chain?d and whipped 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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