Black As The Devil Painteth lyrics
Song information
Artist: Theatre Of Tragedy Album: Der Tanz Der Schatten
Lyrics
An artist is what is call'd the self that the brush holdeth - Though hath it then caringly caress'd 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-huéd arch'neath the high heaven's rich emblazonry The flowery meadow, embrac'd by the horizon - snowflakéd and aery mountains In which the barebreastéd 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 paintéd?
The raven sky prey'd on by the snowfill'd, blustery clouds Unadornéd the meadow - hunger driveth the wolf out of the wood The maidens chainéd and whippéd within a dreary dungeon - And, lo! 'twixt the wizen roses a mossy grave: "The devil is as black as he painteth" - O canvas! wherefore?..
[from http://lyrics.doheth.co.uk]
"Der Tanz Der Schatten" album track list
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