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A Terror Omen
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Letra actual de la canción
Lo! Tis a gala night <br />Within the lonesome latter years! <br />An Angel throng, bewinged, bedight <br />In veils, and drownd in tears, <br />Sit in a theatre, to see <br />A play of hopes and fears. <br />While the orchestra breathes fitfully <br />The music of the spheres. <br /> <br />Mimes, in the form of God on high, <br />Mutter and mumbe low, <br />And hither and thither fly- <br />Mere puppets they, who come and go <br />At bidding of vast formless things <br />That shift the scenery to and fro, <br />Flapping out their Condor wings <br />Invisible Wo! <br /> <br />That motley dram - oh be shure <br />It shall not be forgot! <br />With it´s phantom cheased for evermore, <br />By a crowd that seize it not, <br />Through a circle that ever returneth in <br />The self-same spot, <br />And much of Madness, and more of Sin <br />And Horror the soul of the plot. <br /> <br />But see, amid the mimic rout <br />A crowling shape intrude! <br />A blood-red thing that writhes from out <br />The scenic solitude! <br />It writhes!--It writhes!--with mortal pangs <br />The mimic become it´s food, <br />And the angels sob ar virmin fangs <br />In human gore imbued. <br /> <br />Out-out are the lights-out all! <br />And, over each quevering form, <br />The curtain, the funeral pall, <br />Comes down with the rush of a storm, <br />And the angels, all palid and wan, <br />Uprising, unveiling, affirm <br />And the play is the tragedy, "Man" <br />And it´s hero is the Conqueror Worm.
Letra nueva de la canción
Lo! Tis a gala night <br />Within the lonesome latter years! <br />An Angel throng, bewinged, bedight <br />In veils, and drownd in tears, <br />Sit in a theatre, to see <br />A play of hopes and fears. <br />While the orchestra breathes fitfully <br />The music of the spheres. <br /> <br />Mimes, in the form of God on high, <br />Mutter and mumbe low, <br />And hither and thither fly- <br />Mere puppets they, who come and go <br />At bidding of vast formless things <br />That shift the scenery to and fro, <br />Flapping out their Condor wings <br />Invisible Wo! <br /> <br />That motley dram - oh be shure <br />It shall not be forgot! <br />With it´s phantom cheased for evermore, <br />By a crowd that seize it not, <br />Through a circle that ever returneth in <br />The self-same spot, <br />And much of Madness, and more of Sin <br />And Horror the soul of the plot. <br /> <br />But see, amid the mimic rout <br />A crowling shape intrude! <br />A blood-red thing that writhes from out <br />The scenic solitude! <br />It writhes!--It writhes!--with mortal pangs <br />The mimic become it´s food, <br />And the angels sob ar virmin fangs <br />In human gore imbued. <br /> <br />Out-out are the lights-out all! <br />And, over each quevering form, <br />The curtain, the funeral pall, <br />Comes down with the rush of a storm, <br />And the angels, all palid and wan, <br />Uprising, unveiling, affirm <br />And the play is the tragedy, "Man" <br />And it´s hero is the Conqueror Worm.
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