A Rose For The Dead

Theatre of Tragedy

Oh, my dearest, the sweet music in the air
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
One funeral maketh many
Two indeed more blest treat of delight
Grant a rose for the dead

Lady of carnage
Swarm God's acres
Give praise for the blood it bled
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
Clothe me in night, ne'er feel rue
In its face, behold, naught save grue

Pray, ne'er come hither daylight
Velvet darkness

Wane to dust the wight
Misery it in velvet fright

Velvet darkness, thee we ourselves bestow

Informações da música

Composição: Theatre of Tragedy e Raymond Rohonyi

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