Theatre Of Tragedy

A Hamlet For A Slothful Vassal

Behold a jocund morn indeed! -
Sun on high - birds in sky.
Yonder the whist firth eathing,
Fro where a gale erranteth.

Ye beholdest but the shadow.
That is a lie!
Mayhap a tithe of trothplight -
Lief I am not!
I deem - e'er and anon!
My words are but a twist.
Tis a feigned lie through loathing,
I say!
To and fro, save hither,
Is thy love.
A dotard gaffer, I daresay...
Not a loth! -
But vying for my kinsmen!
...a sapling not!
Beautiful tyrant!
Fiend angelical!
Dove-feathered raven!
Wolvish-ravening lamb!
A hamlet for a slothful vassal -
Soothing ale for a parched sot.
Hie to tell me
What judgest as naught;
I behold the shadow!
Wherefore call me such names;
Nay imp am I!
Thou art my aghast hart -
Grazing in the glade.

E'er thou sayest aye!
That is a lie!
Thief of a plot!
Lief I am not!
Now go to thy tryst!
My words are but a twist!
Go, leave, totter!
Fare well! - with joy I came,
Until dwindlest.
With rue I leave
A morsel, nay more,
Even the orb cannot
For thy journey
Help me melt the ice?!
Hither and thither!

Cheerful Dirge

Hap mirthfulness! - Oh! joy of grand riddance;
Undress me my hauberk! - the wyern hath errant'd.

Ire of yore - bard of e'eryears -
I deem the brood hath wan'd -
fore'ermore?!

Fro the chasm of the bosom, bale a hand back.
Hark! my dove - henceforth I bulwark thee! -
Teathers of swans in my pillow - I cede my heart.
Make haste! - I pray - respond my plea!

Lo! - a sire of great awe - a knight of many battles!

...And of kinsmen weeping for the slain!
Please! - heed my words;
In thy sorrow I will kiss thy tears -
In thy bliss I will take thee by thy hand -
The sapor of grapes thou shalt savor -
And harken the nighttingale sing oh so blithely!

On his knees... A plea to harvest
roses;
No heed for the thorns you count!
Wherefore vow me?
Wherefor this gilded proffer?
Wherefore not pay court to a maid more
fair? -
Morn of a joyous day! Hower 'twixt
weed!
Fertile desert! Cheerful dirge!
Misery me not! - man nor beast; envy
me;
Lest'tis an act of wont!
Many are the drapes that my past bury -
Ineffable feeling indulgeth in battles!

Tisn't what thou vambrace'st thy words with!!;
I bethink dotingly only thy weal -
Forgive me for deeming thee direfully -
Therein abdiding with thee
Yet I was a trifle daunt'd.
Is for me the grandest boon!

To These Words I Beheld No Tongue

Whether the throned Monarch weareth the crown,
Which I know not whether to his belongeth;
Doth he hence the sceptre sway?
Seasoneth he justice? -
Daresay I he doth not,
Will he then use his sceptre as a wand? -
Where doth sit my awe? - Trieth me conjure;
Perchance a spell?; a reptile, a sullied hound? -
Is the gentle rain a quality of his? -
I bethink this fro my thoughts; hitherto, about this,
I beheld to these words no tongue; are the
Monarch's men his thralls or his servants? -
Oft I waylay my tongue -
Those of which are withal by my gnarled heart not heed'd;
Or doth the throstle sing with more glee
At daybreak than than a twilight? -
Brawl not my imp, nor my cherub; reserve my judgement -
Crave not the sword when the bodkin fro ere thine is;
That undiscover'd country; be that
Of calamity, be that of joy, be that of apathy;
Tread not paths of new when those of old are
Far by an only single footstep; walk, be it
On the left, on the right - be it the one which
Straight forward leadeth; the one of correct
I have as until now not heed'd any signs of!

Bring Forth Ye Shadow

[Poem by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy & P�l Bj�stad]

Time is an abyss -
Profound as a thousand nights;
I sojourn my haste, I make respites
For what availeith this eager pace?
One step more naught to face,
Save the heirloom fatal kiss.

I rave no more 'gainst Time or Fate,
For lo! my own shall ne'er come to me,
Yet! - Who doth my future narrate?
Dim the lights - I cannot see!
Bring forth Shadow! -
With whom danceth thou?

Time hath stopp'd -
Yet for others ne'er halteth;
For me the Pages of Life do not turn,
Lo! - on the funeral pyre they burn.
The oh so eathing Velvet Darkness they fear -
Heed! - wherefore delve a burrow,
When in my arms "O! Come here"? -
I say, elsewhither is naught but sorrow!

For what deemest thou so dear thy blood
When through my veins it could flood? -
Bide to merry - make me unaptly;
And hence grant me the fell gift,
The gift of passing on the dark trick.
'Tis such a brazen act of erotic;
Trifle for thee, yet for me grandly thrift,
O! such an innocence depriv'd so hastily -

Alas, for what deemest thou so dear thy blood
When through my veins it will flood?

...A Distance There Is...

Come in out of the rain thou sayest - but thou ne'er step'st aside;
And I am trapp'd -
A distance there is...
None, save me and the bodkin - pitter-patter on the roof:
Behold! - 'tis not the rain; thence me it has to be -
I will not drink thy vintage wine, my dear;
Thou hast heed'd that I am of innocence, yet thou let'st thy lass into peril
-
Thou let'st me be parched;
My heart is of frailty, my pale skin is hued damask.
When thou thy tears hast hidden, "Come back!", thou sayest -
There I soon am to be - but how am I to run when my bones, my heart!
Thou hast me bereaft! -
But run thou sayest; I run -
And there and then I behold that a time will come when I again dead will be.
Thou tell'st me to leave without delay -
I leave with my bodkin and my tears in my hands;
Lo! - the shadows, the sky - descending;
So by a dint of smite I gait ere I run and melt together with dusk.
In my mind in which is this event,
But it seems as if naught is to change anyway?!
After all these years thou left'st me down in the emotional depths -
The sombre soaked velvet-drape is hung upon me,
Turning my feelings away from our so ignorant world:
All the beatiful moments shared, deliberatlely push'd aside -
...a distance there is...

Fair And Guiling Copesmate Death

[Play by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy]

"Gaunt and gnarl'd
Reflecteth the silver shield this welkin aghast,
And with haste translateth to gild'd black post and fast."
"Anon - anon, say I! - the lid aside,
Crawl without this velvet-clad coffin blest,
The bottom sand of the hourglass is at tide,
"Sensing this pine is as deep as the deepest chasm,
'Tis and hath e'er been merry blood to pest -
Hither! - cede and fulfil my phantasm!
To be adust for time longer can I not bide,
Cherish me and sonorously do me laud -
Hence the heart hale out thro' the chest!
For dread! - thine eyes will behold a guise faugh'd."
Misery thee?! - Rather misery me! -
For in Time's durance am I naught but wee."
"This tender and loving pest I to thee bequeath,
Thence switly wilt thou errant to 'Neath."
"And to me should'st thou be the humblemost knave,
Lest fear! - spit I on thy cist and grave! -
Lest leer I at thee and do bewitch,
And the tharms fluttering claw'd and eldritch."
"To conquer thee and thy blood for glore
Art thou my afeard and reluctant whore;
Irksomely coy, save wili�d by alarum,
Bear this torture and maim with decorum.
"If e'er always was I this blissful and blithe
Would I resign to but its wee tithe."
"Purvey my ache and quench my profoundest urge,
And to thee will I sing the lull-dull dirge;
Deliver thy blood like the rill filleth the ghyll."
"Burrow to the trothplight with Night and Devil! -
Bid Him to league with me - forsooth, merry to 'come 'twill."
"Whilom wast thou vestal, yet now flit to thy tryst,
Elsewise will I coerce thine consonantry to turn whist;
Grasp I the snath and cut off thine breath,
"Death - oh! fair and 'guiling copesmate Death,
So that thou canst in darkness and inferno vester,
Be not a malais'd beggar; claim this bloody jester!"
For do I solely what He to me liefly saith."

Mire

Harken! - the clouds mustered in dark -
So painfully easing.
Hush! - hearest the yew doting;
Its years of yore in a mire,
Each like a corpse within its grave;
Wrought for us a yearn of lief;
Tis not a lore of bale nor loathe;
Harmony and aesthesia are its blisses;
Ne'er ere hath it exist'd so sonorously -
Jostl'd away the pale drape
That us had been o'erhung -
Tempt'd thy shutters to open
And thus quench'd the hearth;
Thou giv'st to misery all thou hast: the cold -
With weal embrac'd the sprounting landscape
Like a star of heaven in the broad daylight -
This joy subdueth until it again waneth,
Save the drooping winter of stalwart.

Dying - I Only Feel Apathy

Now as I am to be bereaft of my troth
I cry aloud my last words of lost hope.
A violent gust of wind is my frame of mind;
Huxes like moisture through pores.

I am unwilling to forgive
Him who depriev'd me of my life -
Gloaming the sequence -
A momentary view.
Perishing intervals of rejoice -
My supreme happiness is lost!

Baleful emotions of fear - my body is the earth -
The earth is now destined to be made forlorn -
Forlorn from the enlivening energies.
Am I not anylonger living?

In mournful silence I suffer -
In peace I now will rest.
My hard-working hands
Are now reposed.

I close thee my beloved into my heart -
Conceal thy memory in my inner sanctum.
In my thoughts thou shalt forever be -
As a dear and precious remembrance.

I'm dethroned in the reign of entity -
My tears descend like of abony -
Life is the theatre of tragedy -
Dying - I only feel apathy!

Cheerful Dirge

Hap mirthfulness! - Oh! joy of grand riddance;
Undress me my hauberk! - the wyern hath errant'd.

Ire of yore - bard of e'eryears -
I deem the brood hath wan'd -
fore'ermore?!

Fro the chasm of the bosom, bale a hand back.
Hark! my dove - henceforth I bulwark thee! -
Teathers of swans in my pillow - I cede my heart.
Make haste! - I pray - respond my plea!

Lo! - a sire of great awe - a knight of many battles!

...And of kinsmen weeping for the slain!
Please! - heed my words;
In thy sorrow I will kiss thy tears -
In thy bliss I will take thee by thy hand -
The sapor of grapes thou shalt savor -
And harken the nighttingale sing oh so blithely!

On his knees... A plea to harvest
roses;
No heed for the thorns you count!
Wherefore vow me?
Wherefor this gilded proffer?
Wherefore not pay court to a maid more
fair? -
Morn of a joyous day! Hower 'twixt
weed!
Fertile desert! Cheerful dirge!
Misery me not! - man nor beast; envy
me;
Lest'tis an act of wont!
Many are the drapes that my past bury -
Ineffable feeling indulgeth in battles!

Tisn't what thou vambrace'st thy words with!!;
I bethink dotingly only thy weal -
Forgive me for deeming thee direfully -
Therein abdiding with thee
Yet I was a trifle daunt'd.
Is for me the grandest boon!

Hollow-Hearted, Heart-Departed

Filthy harlots - the Lord's grape!
With lore ornamented entreating;
Hollow hearted, heart-departed -
Yet thou reapest the blooming rose -
When 'tis the weed which is to be swath'd

I do, in the blooming flower, pleasure
find!
And me in the yesterday's bind?!
Innocence is reserved for the meek:
Of naught is my grasp ne'er to be!

Hah! - for thee even a hound holdeth the throne.
Unwanted child of mother! - Plague of plagues!
Father of leprous children.
I wield to stint this brawl!
Nigh is the ford - yet harken! - do not thwart!
Desirest thou to do it withal,
I shall cause thy body by one head too short!
Sayest nay to my boon;
Then wilt thou from bloodshed swoon!

Err me not! - Must bethink my foolhardiness!
Be vanished! - Be banished! -
If deemest me not wroth.
My hand hieth to unsheathe the sword
Lest thou dost totter -
Whid along! - Wherefore irk my haughtiness?

No man... No man at all!,
Wherefore bereave
Be it lord or beggar
The kine of the sward?
Bereaveth my dignity!
Wherefore holdest thou for
Me such a quality scowl?
Loom my darling sun -
Bear the scarlet colour!

Sweet Art Thou

Stay still patient; wilt thou my sister of merciful troth be?
I shall attempt the halter of thy life make less lighten'd!

I shall climb the yew,
Will it subdue me or not!

Swooning emotions smite my bosom -
I have in aptness depriev'd thy eyrie
Oh! - but ne'er alas;
Fro many another a lass -
Lodge here fore'ermore.
Dodge thither sable of yore!

A narrow dell hath now for me turn'd into a broad land;
A land rich with fields of the Simbelmyne.

Sonorous to my ears are the words form'd by thy tongue;
Conquer me! - Waylay me! - Swathe me 'twixt thy arms!
Make me sense the wine which is drunk by queens,
And let it flow white and full in tast o'er my lips.

Make me sense the wine which is drunk by kings,
And let it flow red and full in taste o'er my lips.

A dais'd bridge o'er the ghyll,
In which a river bottomless -
I would have drowned,
Yet thou drewest me out soaking!

Save thou art not yet all parched -
Eavesdroppest : A wee drop,
I can hear it! - I can feel it!
Whence it comes I can only deem,
Yet I will not tarry idly!
Lest this for me is a gay dream:
Let it adamant be -
A dream that will sojourn eternally -
Empty the flagon in me!
In which theatre I will act!

Black As The Devil Painteth

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-hu�d arch'neath the High Heaven's rich emblazonry,
The flowery meadow, embrac'd by the horizon - snowflak�d and aery mountains,
In which the barebreast�d 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 paint�d?

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

Seraphic Deviltry

[Soliloquy by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy]

Whether He the quaint savant's power doth held I now not,
Albeit aetat a thousand stars' birth He is -
Zuoth I that for reasons to me oblivious
August of a granditude of servants is He held,
And by plastic consonantry e'en more servants to the host add�d are -
Pelf they are, dare I say!
Maugre His diurnal serphic deviltry
I say that deviltry - 'tis forsooth deviltry! -
Mind not this in scintillating shades clad is;
To claim the glore is He suffer'd.
"Grant me the fatlings", gouth He, "the fatter the better!",
And died they of starvation;
They are not slaughtering their fatlings -
They are slaughtering 'hemselves.
Sith I at time of yester the questions durst ask,
And dare I say this burthen weightful was,
Wrack of His machine - like motion was I naméd,
Tho' blind and fond the jesters rebuilt
The machine alike - yet whett�d and dight are its edges...

And when He Falleth

[Play by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy & P�l Bj�stad]

"Be my kin free fro varnal sin,
Bridle the thoughts of thy Master."
"There hath past away a glore fro the Earth;
A glore that in the hearts and minds of men,
Men dement�d - blindfold�d by light,
Hourisheth as weed in their well-groom'd garths."

"Might I too was blindfold�d ere,
"The quality of mercy and absolution,
Tho' years have master'd me
Whence cometh such qualities?
A masque of this to fashion:
Build thyself a mirror in which
Seer blest, thou best philosopher!"
Solely wanton images of thy desire appear!"

"'Tis the Divine Comedy -
"'Tis the Divine Tragedy -
The fool and the mocking court;
The fool and the mocking court;
Fool, kneel now, and ring thy bells!
Fool, kneel now, and ring thy bells!
We hold the Earth fro Heaven away."
Make us guffaw at thy futile follies,
Yet for our blunders - Oh, in shame;
Earth beareth no balm for mistakes -
We hold the Earth fro Hell away."

"Believe? In a deily long dead? -
I would rather be a pagan suckl�d in creeds outworn;
Whith fa�rtytales fill'd up in head;
Thoughts of the Book stillborn."

"Shadow of annoyance -
Ne'er come hither!
...And when He falleth, He falleth like Lucifer,
Ne'er to ascend again..."

[ Dialog from "And when He Falleth" ]

[Male Voice]
That cross you wear around your neck;
is it only a decoration, or are you a
true Christian believer?

[Female Voice]
Yes, I believe - truly

Then I want you to remove it at once!
- and never to wear it within this castle
again! Do you know how a falcon is trained my
dear? Her eyes are sown shut. Blinded temporarily
she suffers the whims of her God patiently, until
her will is submerged and she learns to serve -
as your God taught and blinded you with
crosses.

You had me take off my cross because it
offended....

It offended no-one. No - it simply appears
to me to be discourteous to... to wear
the symbol of a deity long dead.

My ancestors tried to find it. And to open
the door that seperates us from our Creator.

But you need no doors to find God.
If you believe....
Believe?! If you believe you are gullible.
Can you look around this world and believe
in the goodness of a god who rules it?
Famine, Pestilence, War, Disease and Death!
They rule this world.

There is also love and life and hope.

Very little hope I assure you. No. If a god
of love and life ever did exist... he is long
since dead. Someone... something rules in his
place.

Der Tanz Der Schatten

[Schauspiel von Raymond (Von T.Wolff & G.Magin korrigiert),]
[Musik von Theatre of Tragedy & P�l Bj�stad]

"Meine Augen sind so dunkel,
"Gleichwohl hast Du Deine Augen versteckt
Auch sind die Visionen schwarz,
Lichtschein hinter der Dunkelheit;
Schwarz wie die Nacht;
Ein Licht das mir gezeigt hat,
Der D�mmerzustand des Menschen -
Da� Du von Angst erf�llt bist.
Ist meine Zeit des Daseins."
Erz�hle mir bitte
Warum Du diese Angst in Dir tr�gst!"

"Ich bin so alleine;
Einsamkeit in Ewigkeit -
Gedanken nur f�r mich,
Mit dem Schatten fl�stere ich -
Mit dem Schatten tanze ich -
Einsam wandere ich,
Das Blut begehre ich: Totentanz."

"Den t�dlichen Ku� zu empfangen;
"Tanze nicht mehr mit dem Schatten,
Folge der Finsternis in das Nichts! -
Tanze bitte nicht �ber das Grab;
S��er Nektar auf Deinen Lippen;
Tanze mit mir den Walzer Luzifers.
Ein Rinnsal blutfeuchtes Leben,
Ich sehne mich Deine Braut zu sein
Ich lecke die Liebe aus Deinem Gesicht,
- Um zu Finsternis zu werden."
Ich lecke den Haß aus Deinem Gesicht."

"Ein so berauschendes Gef�hl:
"F�r immer und unendlich:
Meine bittere Existenz zu schmecken!"
Ein Seelsorger Deiner bin ich."

"La� mich Deinen Ku&� begr��en;
Den selbstzerst�rerischen Ku�..."

"Gebe Dich mir hin!
Ich war von Trauer erf�llt,
Ich war so untr�stlich,
"... Bis ich sterbe, umarme mich,
Doch Du hast die Liebe entfacht..."
Und ich werde wieder auferstehen...
Ich liebe Dich..."

On Whom The Moon Doth Shine

[Play by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy]

"O soft embalmer of still midnight,
Allow me thee to adown,
Of any sort thou fancieth;
Each holdeth its own fancy, I say -
Yet the pleasure we partake in
Was caus'd by the fang'd grin,
Save!, do I for him anger hold?
Nay - I knew I was fey!"
"Had I what it taketh I would do;
I sense - I cannot sense,
I am - yet! I am not -
Once I kiss'd the image
Of the Seven Angels of Death..."
"Yet as thou so didst,
On my lips a kiss land�d,
And with the shadows blend�d
The tendermost silken mourn;
In which the light hidden is -
Yon Hell's brazen doors
Wrothfully it trieth to push."
"Then, lo! the Black Death,
Serpent-like 'twixt the breasts crept;
Hush'd with a gasp of life's breath,
"Hush'd with a gasp of life's breath,
Together red tears they wept,
Together red tears we wept - in vain,
And pass'd the procession of dancers dead -
And pass'd the procession of dancers dead -
As in darkness were we lock'd in wed."
As in darkness were we lock'd in wed;
I kiss'd the Seven Angels of Death."
"And Hell open'd its doors,
Yet what was 'fore my eyes
"Yet what was 'fore my eyes
But if not the brightest light."
But if not the brightest light."

The Masquerader And Phoenix

[Poem by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy]

Hist! - The sonorous orchestral ambience and the arabesque-stanc'd ballerina,
Her wee feel in an alacritic maelstrom-twirl,
And the dust-hurl with her tears blendeth - Egad! this quagmire;
Pasteth her unaptly apt feet to the stage;
Like the wither'd rose of the luciferous Eden
By the mummer'd masquerader espied vigilly and mockingly,
His behesting visage, tho' ruddily mummmer'd 'tis -
Embower'd and eddying oft and eft gloam by gloam,
Her sweetness ne'er cloy - further! further! -
His scratching and dallying hollow-heart�d eyes
Her breasts and vestal heart caress,
And like the dove and bird of prey leapeth she aerily,
Whileas the orchestra playeth on travailingly;
His one and sole swath
With the pizzicato'd ensemble blendeth -
And her umbral foetal scream -
As the song climaxeth
And slowly dieth
Away...

A Rose For The Dead

[Play by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy]

oh - my dearest; the sweet music in the ear -
albeit, daresay I, the lullaby of an everso dark sleep.

my precious,
likest thou what emergeth yon the distant?
the throbbing and breathing of life's machinery!

wanion its oh so damndest soul!
with the devil-instrument it we shall reap,
after the banquet obscur'd in our thole,
its blood so lovingly across our faces smear

lord of carnage!,

lady of carnage!,

one funeral maketh many,

swarm god's acres;

two indeed more:
blest treat of delight -

give praise for the blood it bled,
grant a rose for the dead!
grant a rose for the dead!

enraptur'd by the timeless beauty of the
shadowsphere,
we two abide the overlook'd time of the watch.

make this cherish'd feast last
but until the new dawn ascendeth.

be still - harken the lure of night!
bale in each its damndest shadow,
cloth me in night, ne'er fell rue,
in its face, behold! naught save grue.

pray, ne'er come hither daylight!
wane to dust the wight,
velvet darkness, thee we ourselves bestow!
misery it in velvet fright

Der Spiegel

[Text von Raymond, Musik von Theatre of Tragedy]

der spiegel,
in dem ich die schatten seh';
das schwarze licht, welches mein schloß verschließt
und draußen, der teufel und die schwarze hexe:
singendes, tanzendes ihm verfallenes wesen.
hörst du denn nicht wie der wolf heult?!,
doch das blut sprengt meine adern -
jeder strahl führt mich dem untergang näher:
ich spüre, wie berauscht ich bin,
die sonne scheint nie wieder diesem spiegel,
der mond aber leuchtet meinem körper;
staub - ich trinke das verfluchte wasser,
blut - ich liebte diesen rosengarten,
ich krieche durch diese spitzen dornen,
mein geist lebt in der dunkelheit -
schwarz; - das nichts; - unendlich;
erbe des bösen -
gott klopft an meine tür,
und der spiegel
zerbricht.

As The Shadows Dance

[Play by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy]

my eyes hold the eventide,
albeit behind the eyes thou hast
thro' which I 'hold naught else
a flame enshroudéd in its blackness;
but the raven;
burning without the faintest breeze.
sleep my dearest ones -
teach me, dearest, the reason wherefore
mind not the palling velvet darkness
thou by such angst mark'd art?!

wherefore is here loneliness?;
infinite hollowness
in which my thoughts echo,
to the shadows i whisper -
with the shadows i waltz -
bear me; i am not the plague,
altho' nightclad death ... mayhap?!

dare not naysaying my grant;
dance no longer with the shadows,
vanish with me abaft the unlight! -
dance no longer with the dead in the graveyard;
o! the taste on thine lips;
dance with me the mephisto waltz.
a trickling deep red love -
wedlock 'twixt day and night -
everlasting lightheartédness -
offer me relief fro the sunrays.
a kiss for thee my dear.

ah! such delight i sense:
eternally and ne'erendingly;
savour the bitter grapes of life!
a soulsister of thine i am.

let me openly greet thy kiss;
the most loving and caring bites.

grant me thineself!,
i bore the woe in my heart,
my heart was shatter'd into its tithe,
as i depart embrace me,
save yet are its chambers in flood.
and in paltry time will i re-awake -
i love thee.

Decades

[Joy Division Cover]
[Words by Ian Curtis, Music by Joy Division]

Here are the young men,
a weight on their shoulders
Here are the young men,
well where have they been?
We knocked on the doors
of hell's darker chambers
Pushed to the limits
we dragged ourselves in
Watched from the wings as
the scenes were replaying
We saw ourselves now as
we never have seen
Portrayal of the traumas and degeneration
The sorrows we suffered
and never were freed
Where have they been [4]

Weary inside, now our heats
lost forever
Can't replace the fear
or the thrill of the chase
These rituals showed up the door
for our wanderings
Opened and shut, then slammed
in our face
Where have they been [4]

Cassandra

[Words by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy]

He gave to her, yet tenfold claim'd in return -
She hath no life but the one he for her wrought;
Proffer'd to her his wauking heart - she turn'd it down,
Riposted with a tell-tale lore of lies and scorn.

Prophetess or fond?,
Tho' her parle of truth:
"I ken to-morrow - refell me if can!",
Yet the kiss and breath - Apollo's bane -
S�er of the future, not of twain,
"Sicker!", quoth Cassandra.

Still, is she lief and quaint in his eyne, a sight divine? -
A mistress fuell'd by his prest haughtiness -
If he did grant, wherefore then did he not foresee,
Belike egal as it to him might be?!

Prophetess or fond?,
Tho' her parle of truth:
"I ken to-morrow - refell me if can!",
Yet the kiss and breath - Apollo's bane -
S�er of the future, not of twain,
"Sicker!", quoth Cassandra.

'Or was he an eried being,
'Or was he weening - alack nay mo;
Her naysay' raught his heart,
Her daffing was the grave of all hope -
She belied her own words,
He thought her life, save moreo'er scourge,
She held him august, yet wee;
He left her ne'er without his heart.

Lorelei

[Words by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy]

Ferie dearest, was it loe soothfast or a fa�ade;
A serenade siren'd to lure - Zounds! not to court me?
A menad, yet the sweetest colleen -
Certes didst thou me unveil meekly life pristine.

Lorelei,
A poet of tragedies, scribe I lauds to Death,
Yet who the hell was I to dare?
Lorelei,
Canst thou not see thou to me needful art?
Canst thou not see the loss of loe painful is?

Dedally didst thou perform the tragic pasquinade,
For all years a damndest and driegh'd accolade -
Caus'd for all eyes mazed to behold a m�lee;
In the midst did I swainly cast thee my bouquet:
The one and sole faggot that feedeth the fire,
Bellow'd bidingly by my heart's quailing quire.

Lorelei,
A poet of tragedies, scribe I lauds to Death,
Yet who the hell was I to dare?
Lorelei,
Canst thou not see thou to me needful art?
Canst thou not see the loss of loe painful is?

Perchance author I thee this ikon'd apologue for aught,
Doth the wecht burthen thee?, then bethink thine afterthought:
'Tween Aether and 'Nether art thou the peerless phoenix -
Prithee, darlingmost! - court me rather than the peevish prolix.

Angelique

[Words by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy]

Thou dawdl'd not bringing me fro Aether to Nether,
Still, duringly cling I on to this heather -
Dew-scented blossom; thou wast pristine,
The sweven of thee ne'er will I cede, my colleen.
Drat this creature of memories ill,
Foolhardy and fey I may be, yet him I shall quell.

'Vaunt! - Devil tyne -
Wadst thou wane fore'ermae;
Daunt - sinsyne thence,
Ta'en as a dint, Angelique?

Perforce and grinningly shall I maim in the vie -
Alas dastard! - hanging by the noose die.

'Vaunt! - Devil tyne -
Wadst thou wane fore'ermae;
Daunt - sinsyne thence,
Ta'en as a dint, Angelique?

'Come not wont to this uncouth Devil!,
Lest to a Devil thou wilt translate...my Angel.

'Vaunt! - Devil tyne -
Wadst thou wane fore'ermae;
Daunt - sinsyne thence,
Ta'en as a dint, Angelique?

Aoede

[Words by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy]

Parch'd of words, parch'd of lauds,
Lorn and tyned fro my wame -
'Seech I more perforce indeed:
Lap I of thee: Thou art want.

With dulcet gust thine floret,
Which I yet would not do -
Pray I thee for thine avail -
Lave me in it; I want more!

For my loe, not be adust.

Come see as the wind: Chant -
I let thee come in -
Come see as the wind, Aoede.

As of lote - upon thee dote,
Lowing 'tis, true forsooth,
Tisn't a tongue, nay merely mote,
Thou art grandly mae than couth':
Eft and e'er doth it eke -
I am what I do behold.

For my loe, not be adust.

Come see as the wind: Chant -
I let thee come in -
Come see as the wind, Aoede.