[Club-Mix] "Meine Augen sind so dunkel, "Gleichwohl hast Du Deine Augen versteckt Auch sind die Visionen schwarz, Lichtschein hinter der Dunkelheit
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
Come in out of the rain thou sayest - but thou ne'er step'st aside; And I am trapp'd - A distance there is... None, save me and the bodkin - pitter-patter
"Behold a jocund morn indeed! - Sun on high - birds in sky. Yonder the whist eathing, Fro where a gale erranteth." "Ye beholdest but the shadow. "That
[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
Don't save the day it's not over We fall for better or worse I can see the sparkling ice is breaking I've seen you got a speck of dust in your eye Act
[Words by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy] Parch'd of words, parch'd of lauds, Lorn and tyned fro my wame - 'Seech I more perforce indeed: Lap
[Words by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy] Thou dawdl'd not bringing me fro Aether to Nether, Still, duringly cling I on to this heather - Dew-
Everyone else speaks in a drone Round and round into the unknown Afternoon sun filters out through smoke The hum of factories quietly revoked Touch
Switch to another dream, to a quiet spite Think back at some time when there was a fading touch Colour me white and paint the vistas grey Everyday there
Don't you wanna end up with this mister? He is just being nice with his kisses and he Thinks you're not one of the smart ones Say it darling Doesn't
[Words by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy] Ado with a mean woe, An ado as aglow: Belying the paynim Thou rewrot'st the tome - An ivy-crown'd and
Echoes that somehow Can surround us Can resound through stillness Like thoughts of shifting this balance Ideas of ideals convolve like intricate phases
Don't know inside from upside-down We praise the famed unwittingly If we had read that we are but illiterate What would we do? Keep inventory of things
[Poem by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy & Pal Bjastad] Time is an abyss - Profound as a thousand nights; I sojourn my haste, I make respites For
[Words by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy] He gave to her, yet tenfold claim'd in return - She hath no life but the one he for her wrought; Proffer
Hap mirthfulness! - Oh! joy of grand riddance; Undress me my hauberk! - the wyern hath errant'd. Ire of yore - bard of e'eryears - I deem the brood
