Текст песни
Yet who the hell was i to dare, yet who the hell was i to dare
F rie dearest, tween ther and nether art thou the peerless ph nix Tragedy, tween ther and nether art thou the peerless ph nix
canst thou not see thou to me needful art
canst thou not see thou to me needful art
A serenade siren d to lure zounds, canst thou not see the loss of loe painful is Of, not to court me
caus d for all eyes maz d to behold a m l e
Canst thou not see thou to me needful art, canst thou not see thou to me needful art, was it loe soothfast or a fa ade
F rie dearest, yet who the hell was i to dare
Caus d for all eyes maz d to behold a m l e, court me rather than the peevish prolix
The one and sole faggot that feedeth the fire, f rie dearest, yet who the hell was i to dare
Court me rather than the peevish prolix, f rie dearest
a serenade siren d to lure zounds
Canst thou not see the loss of loe painful is, a serenade siren d to lure zounds
Not to court me, canst thou not see thou to me needful art
Court me rather than the peevish prolix, a poet of tragedies
Canst thou not see the loss of loe painful is, yet the sweetest colleen, yet the sweetest colleen
Yet who the hell was i to dare, for all years a damndest and driegh d accolade Of, scribe i lauds to death
Yet who the hell was i to dare, the one and sole faggot that feedeth the fire
Then bethink thine afterthought, then bethink thine afterthought, the one and sole faggot that feedeth the fire
doth the wecht burthen thee
Scribe i lauds to death, f rie dearest
Certes didst thou me unveil meekly life pristine, canst thou not see the loss of loe painful is
Certes didst thou me unveil meekly life pristine, f rie dearest
Court me rather than the peevish prolix, the one and sole faggot that feedeth the fire
f rie dearest
Court me rather than the peevish prolix, certes didst thou me unveil meekly life pristine
canst thou not see the loss of loe painful is
f rie dearest
caus d for all eyes maz d to behold a m l e
Tween ther and nether art thou the peerless ph nix, a poet of tragedies
Canst thou not see the loss of loe painful is, canst thou not see thou to me needful art Tragedy, canst thou not see the loss of loe painful is
Certes didst thou me unveil meekly life pristine, d dally didst thou perform the tragic pasquinade, scribe i lauds to death
Canst thou not see thou to me needful art, doth the wecht burthen thee, doth the wecht burthen thee
For all years a damndest and driegh d accolade, for all years a damndest and driegh d accolade Tragedy, a serenade siren d to lure zounds
scribe i lauds to death
certes didst thou me unveil meekly life pristine
canst thou not see thou to me needful art
Caus d for all eyes maz d to behold a m l e, a serenade siren d to lure zounds, a serenade siren d to lure zounds
Canst thou not see thou to me needful art, not to court me
A poet of tragedies, in the midst did i swainly cast thee my bouquet
Yet who the hell was i to dare, bellow d bidingly by my heart s quailing quire, tween ther and nether art thou the peerless ph nix
doth the wecht burthen thee
the one and sole faggot that feedeth the fire
Canst thou not see thou to me needful art, certes didst thou me unveil meekly life pristine
Doth the wecht burthen thee, d dally didst thou perform the tragic pasquinade Lorelei, in the midst did i swainly cast thee my bouquet
Canst thou not see thou to me needful art, certes didst thou me unveil meekly life pristine
Tween ther and nether art thou the peerless ph nix, a poet of tragedies
Was it loe soothfast or a fa ade, a poet of tragedies, canst thou not see thou to me needful art
The one and sole faggot that feedeth the fire, yet who the hell was i to dare, in the midst did i swainly cast thee my bouquet
Yet the sweetest colleen, a serenade siren d to lure zounds
Doth the wecht burthen thee, for all years a damndest and driegh d accolade
yet the sweetest colleen
Certes didst thou me unveil meekly life pristine, yet who the hell was i to dare
A poet of tragedies, in the midst did i swainly cast thee my bouquet, f rie dearest
canst thou not see thou to me needful art
F rie dearest, yet who the hell was i to dare Of, a poet of tragedies
scribe i lauds to death
Bellow d bidingly by my heart s quailing quire, yet who the hell was i to dare, court me rather than the peevish prolix