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Lo! 'tis a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years!
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre, to see
A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.

Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly -
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out their Condor wings
Invisible Woe!

That motley drama - oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased for evermore,
By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in
To the self-same spot,
And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
And Horror the soul of the plot.

But see, amid the mimic rout
A crawling shape intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes! - it writhes! - with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And seraphs sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued.

Out - out are the lights - out all!
And, over each quivering form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
While the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, "Man,"
And its hero the Conqueror Worm.

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Tongue of silence, lick my lips,
steal my thoughts, steal my pride!
My souls lies offered as I'm waiting,
intoxicate me, when you step inside...!
Hold my hands, my hands are trembling,
your charming beauty takes my breath.
Fragrant perfumes veil my senses,
hold my hands, sweet tormentress...!
Out of darkness we all came from,
flight from darkness is in vain.
I'm the banquet, I'm delicious,
into darkness we'll fall back again...

Meister des Mordes, nimm meine Augen,
an diesem Ort kann ich nicht sein!
Strecke mich nieder, zerschlage mein Haupt,
Meister des Mordes, schenke mir den Tod...!
Meister des Mordes, erhöre mein Flehen,
beende die Leiden, nimm den Schmerz von mir!
Öffne die Tore, es ist für mich Zeit...-
Meister des Mordes, dieser Tanz ist Grausamkeit!
Meister des Mordes, nimm meine Augen,
gefangen im Fleische, erbärmlich und alt!
Führe mich fort in die Dunkelheit,
Vater meiner Seele, dieser Tanz ist Grausamkeit.
Vater meiner seele, reiß´mich in den Tod...
...Es tut mir leid.

Также новый альбом будет выпущен на ВИНИЛЕ!!! В количестве 900 копий. Все они будут подписаны и пронумерованы лично A.Varney! И будут сопровождаться двумя постерами(60х90см). О стоимости этого издания можно лишь догадываться...

В колонках играет - хуй... То естъ [X]reN
Настроение сейчас - хуй... аналогично в общем

Не хочу быть ковбоем. Хочу быть пневмороботом с моторчиком в заднице... Завтра концерт.