ترانه:
Theatre Of Tragedy Inperspective

siren'd to lure - Zounds! not to court me? A m?nad, yet the sweetest colleen - Certes didst thou me unveil meekly life pristine. Lorelei, A poet of tragedies

Twit me, I am thy tyke; Meekness for thee aught. Wark aptly my drear, Yerk me to weal daut', Sweven nor Muse Wad taw me to this ruddy hue - Skelp me

: "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..." "Then

A serenade siren'd to lure - Zounds! not to court me? A m¦nad, yet the sweetest colleen - Certes didst thou me unveil meekly life pristine. Lorelei, A poet of tragedies

: Hist! - The sonorous orchestral ambience and the arabesque-stanc'd ballerina, Her wee feet in an alacritic m¦lstrom-twirl, And the dust-hurl with her

A serenade siren'd to lure - Zounds! not to court me? A m¦nad, yet the sweetest colleen - Certes didst thou me unveil meekly life pristine. Lorelei, A poet of tragedies

Hist! - The sonorous orchestral ambience and the arabesque-stanc'd ballerina, Her wee feet in an alacritic m¦lstrom-twirl, And the dust-hurl with her

Twit me, I am thy tyke; Meekness for thee aught. Yerk me to weal daut', Sweven nor Muse Wad taw me to this ruddy hue - Wark aptly my drear, 'Hesting