Marche Funebre

1. The March

Those who march now... will not march again

2. The Silent Watcher

Here alone in the dark
I've hidden for all these years
Watching as your lives pass by
Never far enough
Never close enough

I've known the companion of man
The closeness, the intimacy and the departure
Ripped away from the beloved, by the beloved
I've always stayed here by your path

Waiting for a sign
To re enter your lives

The pain of the news bites
Soaring through my heart
The hate never did fully mask the love
I watched every move
Cried with your cries
Loathed your enemies
Loathed your friends
Aching from your joy

Waiting for a sign
To re enter your lives

I am the silent watcher
Never stray from your path
I am the man in silence
Knocking on the wooden door
I am the silent watcher
Knocking on your conscience

3. Benighted

A cry in the dark
A sigh by dawn

Benighted by nocturnal magick
I dwell to meet a creature most divine
Benighted, I seek night after night

Enslaved by a supernatural desire
I am drawn to Her mythical habitat
Enslaved, I drawn to Her...

From dusk till dawn
She reigns
Where no light dwells
Thou feelst
Her omnipresent black aura

Bewildered by a strange dark feeling
I have to end my nocturnal search
Bewildered, I stare in Her eyes

O, most gracious Goddess of the Dark
Thou enchanted me
With Thy nocturnal charm
Thou truly art a creature most divine
O, Dark Enchantress, make me Thine

O, Nocturnal Angel
Let me look into Thine eyes
Let me locked into Thy arms
Every night from now
Until eternity ends...

4. On Wings of Azrael

Lo! 'T is a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years!
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre
A play of hopes and fears,
The orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.

Mimes, in the form of God
Mutter and mumble low,
Hither they fly
Mere puppets who come and go
At bidding of vast forms
That shift the scene to and fro,
Flapping their Condor wings
Invisible Wo!

That motley drama!
It shall not be forgot!
Its Phantom chased forever more,
By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth
To the self-same spot,
Much of Madness, more of Sin
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 the 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 like a storm,
The angels, pallid and wan,
Unveiling they affirm
The play is the tragedy,
"Man, Its hero the Conqueror Worm."

"Crushed into the very dust with sorrow
My memory flew back to Ligeia,
The beloved, The august, The entombed.
One night, near the closing in of September
A shadow -a faint,
Indefinite shadow of angelic aspect
I saw, fall within the goblet,
by the terror, by the opium and by the hour."

"Rowena had shaken off the fetters of Death
Arising from the bed of death
I trembled not - I stirred not
She chilled me into stone"

"Shrinking from my touch,
She let fall from her head
Long and dishevelled hair
Blacker than the raven wings of the midnight

Can I never be mistaken
These are the full, and the black,
And the wild eyes
Of my lost love - of the LADY LIGEIA."

Lyrics in plain text format

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