Theatre Of Tragedy Lyrics
Theatre Of Tragedy Lyrics
"Black As The Devil Painteth Lyrics"
There Never Was A Time Lyrics
There was a time we'd sit in the backyard cause the house would get so hot From the summer sun there was no way of sleepin' And you'd pl
There was a time we'd sit in the backyard cause the house would get so hot From the summer sun there was no way of sleepin' And you'd pl
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
Ego Lyrics
You are such an imitation of me I want you to know that I will always kick you in your face if you ever try to disgrace me because I
The blue-hu?d arch'neath the High Heaven's rich emblazonry,You are such an imitation of me I want you to know that I will always kick you in your face if you ever try to disgrace me because I
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!, wheref
Life's An Ocean Lyrics
Life's An Ocean Too much commotion, too much emotion Dragging me down Living for today, don't have time to pray Ready for t
re canst thou these images not allow? -Life's An Ocean Too much commotion, too much emotion Dragging me down Living for today, don't have time to pray Ready for t
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 snowfi
Colliers March Lyrics
The summer was over the season unkind In harvest a snow, how uncommon to find The times were oppressive and well it be known That hu
l'd, blustery clouds,The summer was over the season unkind In harvest a snow, how uncommon to find The times were oppressive and well it be known That hu
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?...