• Song:

    The Poet and the Pendulum

  • Artist:


  • Album:

    Dark Passion Play (Coll...

[Part 1: White Lands Of Empathica]
 The end.
 The songwriter's dead.
 The blade fell upon him
 Taking him to the white lands
 of empathica,
 of innocence
 [Part 2: Home]
 The dreamer and the wine
 Poet without a rhyme
 A widow writer torn apart by chains of Hell
 One last perfect verse
 It's still the same old song
 Oh Christ, how I hate what I have become
 Take me home
 Get away, run away, fly away
 Lead me astray to dreamer's hideaway
 I cannot cry 'cause the shoulder cries more
 I cannot die, I, a whore for this cold world
 Forgive me,
 I have but two faces
 One for the world,
 One for God,
 save me
 I cannot cry 'cause the shoulder cries more
 I cannot die, I, a whore for this cold world
 My home was there and then, those meadows of heaven
 Adventure-filled days
 One with every smiling face
 Please, no more words
 Thoughts from a severed head
 No more praise,
 Tell me once my heart goes right
 Take me home
 [Part 3: The Pacific]
 Sparkle my scenery
 With Turquoise waterfall
 With beauty underneath
 The ever free
 Tuck me in beneath the blue
 Beneath the Pain,
 Beneath the rain
 Goodnight kiss for a child in time
 Swaying blade my lullaby
 On the shore we sat and hoped
 Under the same pale moon
 Whose guiding light chose you,
 Chose you all
 "I'm afraid, I'm so afraid.
 being raped, again and again, and again
 I know I will die alone
 but loved.
 You live long enough to hear the sounds of guns,
 Long enough to find yourself screaming every night,
 Live long enough to see your friends betray you.
 For years I've been strapped unto this altar.
 Now I only have three minutes and counting.
 I just wish the tide would catch me first and give me
 a death I always longed for."
 [Part 4: Dark Passion Play]
 2nd robber to the right of Christ
 Cut in half - infanticide
 The world will rejoice today
 As the crows feast on the rotting poet
 Everyone must bury their own
 No pack to bury the heart of stone
 Now he`s home in hell, serves him well
 Slain by the bell, tolling for his farewell
 The morning dawned upon his altar
 Remains of the dark passion play
 Performed by his friends without shame
 Spitting on his grave as they came
 "Today, in the year of our Lord, 2005
 Tuomas was called from the cares of the world
 He stopped crying at the end of each beautiful day.
 The music he wrote had too long been without silence.
 He was found naked and dead,
 With a smile in his face, a pen and 1000 pages of erased text."
 Save me
 [Part 5: Mother And Father]
 Be still, my son
 You`re home
 Oh when did you become so cold?
 The blade will keep on descending
 All you need is to feel my love
 Search for beauty, find your shore
 Try to save them all, bleed no more
 You have such oceans within
 In the end, I will always love you
 The beginning.
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