Из альбома: A Rose For The Dead
"Be my kin free fro varnal sin,
Bridle the thoughts of thy Master."
"There hath past away a glore fro the Earth;
A glore that in the hearts and minds of men,
Men dementйd - blindfoldйd by light,
Hourisheth as weed in their well-groom'd garths."
"Might I too was blindfoldйd ere,
Tho' years have master'd me
A masque of this to fashion:
Seer blest, thou best philosopher!"
"The quality of mercy and absolution,
Whence cometh such qualities?
Build thyself a mirror in which
Solely wanton images of thy desire appear!"
"'Tis the Divine Comedy -
The fool and the mocking court;
Fool, kneel now, and ring thy bells!
We hold the Earth fro Heaven away."
"'Tis the Divine Tragedy -
The fool and the mocking court;
Fool, kneel now, and ring thy bells!
Make us guffaw at thy futile follies,
Yet for our blunders - Oh, in shame;
Earth beareth no balm for mistakes -
We hold the Earth fro Hell away."
"Believe? In a deily long dead? -
I would rather be a pagan sucklйd in creeds outworn;
Whith faдrtytales fill'd up in head;
Thoughts of the Book stillborn."
"Shadow of annoyance -
Ne'er come hither!
...And When He Falleth, He falleth like Lucifer,
Ne'er to ascend again..."