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Тексты (слова) песенСписок исполнителей в алфавитном порядкеА  Б В Г Д Е Ё Ж З И К Л М Н О П Р С Т У Ф Х Ц Ч Ш Э Ю Я  A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P R S T U V W X Y Z  Текст (слова) песни: Theatre Of Tragedy - Black As The Devil PaintethBlack As The Devil Painteth An artist is what is calld the self that the brush holdeth - Though hath it then caringly caressd 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-hued archneath the High Heavens rich emblazonry, The flowery meadow, embracd by the horizon - snowflaked and aery mountains, In which the barebreasted 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 painted? The raven sky preyd on by the snowfilld, blustery clouds, Unadorned the meadow - hunger driveth the wolf out of the wood, The maidens chained and whipped within a dreary dungeon - And, lo! twixt the wizen roses a mossy grave: "The Devil is as Black as he Painteth" - O Canvas! wherefore?... |
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