Sleep

A cruel sleep 'cross our land
All withered and dying
As they fall, the victims
They're dying a sad death
In our land, we lay down
And suffer again

A dark girl 'cross our land
Is pacing. Is preying
And with her, a fever
A marching black fever
No eyes see. No features
Just black form, suffering

You have her sympathy
You have her tears
She tries only to take
All your fears
The pain she feels
When she drinks your soul
Is hers to suffer
It is her toll
Believe me, she's helpless
When she curses our land
When she swallows light
It's not her hand

Poison awaits when you kiss her
Her heart cries out for you, for me
Untold misery is hers to serve
out for eternity
Out cold. Mankind will stay
forevermore if she gets her way
She can't help it. It's her curse
To sing your pain in her own verse

She is the dark
The nightmares you hide
The pain you feel
The suffering inside
Though she was like you
Through her dark past
But now, the conqueror
Her choirs vast
Oh, please forgive her
As mankind dies
As angels weep
And heaven cries

MDB

All the Heart

Never give all the heart, for love
Will hardly seem worth thinking of
To passionate women if it seem
Certain, and they never dream
That it fades out from kiss to kiss;
For everything that's lovely is
But a brief, dreamy, kind delight.
O never give the heart outright,
For they, for all smooth lips can say,
Have given their hearts up to the play.
And who could play it well enough
If deaf and dumb and blind with love?
He that made this knows all the cost,
For he gave all his heart and lost.

W.B. Yeats

Catherine Blake

So vile mens' torment was truly a pleasure
A plan that would change mankind for ever more

Catherine Blake slept fitfully in the
summer night. In the heat.
she murmured gently and moved smoothly,
this way and that. Oh, the beauty.
Her luscious eyes, delicate fingers,
clawed at her sodden bed.
Catherine smiled. Took a fabulous breath
of summer air and tasted death.

Die Erorians' visit had been succesful, rewarding.
with nights of female screams of whimpers,
lustful dreams.
Night followed rampant night of
delicate soft gasps.
The ultimate attack on all Heaven and it's glories.
Seduce them as they slept, oblivous to
their midnight tryst.
The seed of doom was platned.
Phantom raped in their dreams.
The sad ones take their own lives.
Slay their men night after night.

Catherine Blake dreamt of a horror.
Of passion too, and of terror.
Over her silent breast, shadows swept,
shades caressed.

Motherhood was destroyed by the seed
and laid to waste.
A great rift was born. Man and the
world were torn.
The daggers went in dep, vile and sickening.
Women swept away all infancy from their wombs.
And still the Lord God remained silent.
No utterance, no movement, no tears.
The earth became red.
The cutting machines of man.
Disgust and hatred for the lives of woman.
The butchery, the savagery, did spill
unto themselves.
A chorus of agony from Heaven and rain poured
In a colossus of angels tears.
The creature of all sins. The lord of the
bleakest abode.
Did wonder at the silence.
What did the Almighty know?
All Hell did fill with the screaming souls
of dead men.
The mighty army of God did stand and wait.
Hoping our lord would unleash them all.
the great firy pit. Hordes ripped apart.
Chaos ensued, screaming from the dark.
Observing his darkened child, in the miserable corners of earth
The great heart of God will heal up the earth.
The Lord watched as his beloved slipped silently
Back into the darkness below

My Dying Bride

Tornerose

I den røde rosenlund
hviler hun.
Hviler i sitt hvite hår.
Vår og vinter - hundre år
ventet hun den ene som
aldri kom.
Gamle, gamle Tornerose,
sover du fremdeles?

Snart er alt din sommer gav
blomstret av.
Og ditt første forårs venn
kommer aldri mer igjen
før din haves ville hekk
visner vekk.
Gamle, gamle Tornerose,
sover du fremdeles?

En gang stod han stum av rus
ved ditt hus.
Torner stengte for din grind,
og du slapp ham ikke inn.
Derfor står ditt rosenkratt
gudsforlatt.
Gamle, gamle Tornerose,
sover du fremdeles?

Er det ham din fattigdom
drømmer om?
Dit hvor dine roser sner
vil han aldri vandre mer.
I en annen dronnings land
hersker han.
Gamle, gamle Tornerose,
sover du fremdeles?

Om den store sødmestund
drømmer hun.
Akk, men livet går forbi
den som intet har å gi.
Øde står din have nu
stakkars du.
Gamle, gamle Tornerose,
sover du fremdeles?

Uten frukt og uten frø
må du dø.
Aldri mere blir du glad,
du som våren vandret fra,
og ditt hjerte brenner ned
uten fred.
Gamle, gamle Tornerose,
gråter du fremdeles

André Bjerke

Edward

Poor Edward

Did you hear the news about Edward?
On the back of his head
He had another face
Was it a woman's face
Or a young girl
They said to remove it would kill him
So poor Edward was doomed
The Face could laugh and cry
It was his Devil twin
And at night she spoke to him
Of things heard only in hell
They were impossible to separate
Chained together for life
Finally the bell tolled his doom
He took a suit of rooms
And hung himself and her
From the balcony irons
Some still believe he was freed from her
But i knew her too well
I say she drove him to suicide
And took Poor Edward to Hell.

Tom Waits

Waiting for Sleep

Standing by the window
Eyes upon the moon
Hoping that the memory
will leave her spirit soon

She shuts the doors and lights
And lays her body on the bed
Where images and words are
running deep
She has too much pride to pull
the sheets above her head
So quietly she lays and waits
for sleep

She stares at the ceiling
And tries not to think
And pictures the chains
She's been trying to link again
But the feeling is gone

And water can't cover her
memory
And ashes can't answer her
pain
God give me the power to take
breath from a breeze
And call life from a cold metal
frame

In with the ashes
Or up with the smoke from the
fire
With wings up in heaven
Or here, lying in bed
Palm of her hand to my head
Now and forever curled in my
heart
And the heart of the world

Dream Theatre