"For my own part, I have never had a thought which I could not set down
in words with even more distinctness than that with which I conceived it.
There is, however, a class of fancies of exquisite delicacy which are not
thoughts, and to which as yet I have found it absolutely impossible to
adapt to language. These fancies arise in the soul, alas how rarely.
Only at epochs of most intense tranquillity, when the bodily and mental
health are in perfection. And at those weird points of time, where the
confines of the waking world blend with the world of dreams. And so I
captured this fancy, where all that we see, or seem, is but a dream within
a dream."

The clock struck midnight
And through my sleeping
I heard a tapping at my door
I looked but nothing lay in the darkness
And so I turned inside once more

To my amazement
There stood a raven
Whose shadow hung above my door
Then through the silence
It spoke the one word
That I shall hear for evermore

Nevermore
Thus quoth the raven, nevermore

And still the raven remains in my room
No matter how much I implore
No words can soothe him
No prayer remove him
And I must hear for evermore

Quoth the raven, nevermore
Nevermore
Thus quoth the raven, nevermore

You should have seen him
Lying alone in helpless silence in the night
You should have seen him
You would have seen his eye reflecting in the light

So for the old man
Ashes to ashes, earth to earth and dust to dust
No one will see me
No one with guilt to share, no secret soul to trust

Louder and louder
Till I could tell the sound was not within my ears
You should have seen me
You would have seen my eyes grow white and cold with fear

Heard all the things in Heaven and Earth
I've seen many things in Hell
But his vulture's eye of a cold pale blue
Is the eye of the Devil himself

Take me away now
But let the silence drown the beating of his heart

By the last breath of the four winds that blow
I'll have revenge upon Fortunato
Smile in his face I'll say "come let us go
I've a cask of Amontillado"

Sheltered inside from the cold of the snow
Follow me now to the vault down below
Drinking the wine as we laugh at the time
Which is passing incredibly slow

(What are these chains that are binding my arm?)
Part of you dies each passing day
(Say it's a game and I'll come to no harm)
You'll feel your life slipping away

You who are rich and whose troubles are few
May come around to see my point of view
What price the Crown of a King on his throne
When you're chained in the dark all alone

(Spare me my life only name your reward)
Part of you dies each brick I lay
(Bring back some light in the name of the Lord)
You'll feel your mind slipping away

Just what you need to make you feel better
Just what you need to make you feel
Just what you need to make you feel better
Just what you need to make you feel

At the far end of your tether
And your thoughts won't fit together
So you sleep light or whatever
And the night goes on forever
Then your mind change like the weather
You're in need of Doctor Tarr and Professor Fether

Even clouds seem bright and breezy
'Cause the livin' is free and easy
See the rat race in a new way
Like you're wakin' up to a new day
It's a wise thing if you're clever
Take a lead from Doctor Tarr and Professor Fether

Find the end of a rainbow
Fly wherever the winds blow
Laugh at life like a sideshow
Just what you need to make you feel better

Satisfaction altogether
Guaranteed by Doctor Tarr and Professor Fether

Find the end of a rainbow
Fly wherever the winds blow
Laugh at life like a sideshow
Just what you need to make you feel better

Don't stop bringin' the girls round
Don't start havin' a showdown
Keep on handin' the jug round
All that you need is wine and good company

"Shadows of shadows passing. It is now 1831, and as always I am
absorbed with a delicate thought. It is how poetry has indefinite
sensations, to which end music is inessential. Since the comprehension
of sweet sound is our most indefinite conception, music, when combined
with a pleasurable idea, is poetry. Music without the idea is simply music.
Without music or an intriguing idea, colour becomes pallor, man becomes
carcase, home becomes catacomb, and the dead are but for a moment
motionless."

Instrumental

Instrumental

Instrumental

Instrumental

If I could see the sky above
And my mind could be set free
As wild white horses reached the shore
I'd stand alone and oversee

And if the bush before me burns
Should I turn my eyes away
And still the voices I can hear
As clear to me as light of day

I believed in my dreams
Nothing could change my mind
Now I know what they mean
How could I be so blind

Cold sands of time
(Winds that blow as cold as ice
Sounds that come in the night)
Shall hide what is left on me
(Come from Paradise)

I've been through times when no one cared
(Words that were mine)
I've seen clouds in empty skies
When one kind word meant more to me
(Shall last as a memory)
Than all the love in Paradise

I believed in my dreams
Nothing could change my mind
Till I found what they mean
Nothing can save me now