Interpret:

Theatre of Tragedy

Album:

Inperspective

Ferie dearest, was it loe soothfast or a façade; 
A serenade siren'd to lure - Zounds! not to court me? 
A menad, yet the sweetest colleen - 
Certes didst thou me unveil meekly life pristine. 


Lorelei, 
A poet of tragedies, scribe I lauds to Death, 
Yet who the hell was I to dare? 
Lorelei, 
Canst thou not see thou to me needful art? 
Canst thou not see the loss of loe painful is? 


Dedally didst thou perform the tragic pasquinade, 
For all years a damndest and driegh'd accolade - 
Caus'd for all eyes mazed to behold a męlee; 
In the midst did I swainly cast thee my bouquet: 
The one and sole faggot that feedeth the fire, 
Bellow'd bidingly by my heart's quailing quire. 


Lorelei, 
A poet of tragedies, scribe I lauds to Death, 
Yet who the hell was I to dare? 
Lorelei, 
Canst thou not see thou to me needful art? 
Canst thou not see the loss of loe painful is? 


Perchance author I thee this ikon'd apologue for aught, 
Doth the wecht burthen thee?, then bethink thine afterthought: 
'Tween Aether and 'Nether art thou the peerless phoenix - 
Prithee, darlingmost! - court me rather than the peevish prolix.