ترانه:
Theatre Of Tragedy Velvet Darkness They Fear

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! -

twixt the breasts crept: Hush'd with a gasp of life's breath, Together red tears they wept, And pass'd the procession of dancers dead - As in darkness

Hist! - the sonorous orchestral ambience and the arabesque-slane'd ballerina, Her wee feet in an alacritic maelstrom-twirl, And the dust-hurl with her

: [Play by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy & Pal Bjastad] "Be my kin free fro varnal sin, Bridle the thoughts of thy Master." "There hath past

: [Poem by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy] An artist is what is call'd the self that the brush holdeth - Though hath it then caringly caress'd

: [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

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

[Play by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy & Pal Bjastad] "Be my kin free fro varnal sin, Bridle the thoughts of thy Master." "There hath past away

[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