by Theatre of Tragedy on album A Rose for the Dead

An artist is what is call'd the self that the brush holdeth - Though hath it then caringly caress'd the Canvas of to-morrow?, O Canvas! for thee I hold my tool - still! passionless it quivereth, Mindi

by Theatre of Tragedy on album Closure: Live

An artist is what is call'd the self that the brush holdeth - Though hath it then caringly caress'd the Canvas of to-morrow?, O Canvas! for thee I hold my tool - still! passionless it quivereth, Mindi

by Theatre of Tragedy on album Velvet Darkness They Fear

An artist is what is call'd the self that the brush holdeth - Though hath it then caringly caress'd the Canvas of to-morrow?, O Canvas! for thee I hold my tool - still! passionless it quivereth, Mindi

by Theatre of Tragedy on album Velvet Darkness They Fear

An artist is what is call'd the self that the brush holdeth — Though hath it then caringly caress'd the Canvas of to-morrow? O Canvas! For thee I hold my tool — still! Passionless it quivereth, Mi

by Theatre of Tragedy on album Closure: Live

An artist is what is call'd the self the brush holdeth - Though hath it then caringly caress'd the Canvas of tomorrow? O Canvas! for thee I hold my tool - still passionless it quivereth Minding not th

by Theatre of Tragedy on album Closure:Live

An artist is what is call’d the self that the brush holdeth — Though hath it then caringly caress’d the Canvas of to-morrow? O Canvas! For thee I hold my tool — still! Passionless it quivereth

by Theatre of Tragedy on album Theatre of Tragedy

my eyes hold the eventide, -- albeit behind the eyes thou hast thro' which I 'hold naught else -- a flame enshroud'd in its blackness; but the raven; -- burning without the faintest breeze. sleep my d

by Theatre of Tragedy on album A Rose for the Dead

my eyes hold the eventide, -- albeit behind the eyes thou hast thro' which I 'hold naught else -- a flame enshroud'd in its blackness; but the raven; -- burning without the faintest breeze. sleep my d

by Theatre of Tragedy on album Inperspective / A Rose for the Dead

my eyes hold the eventide, -- albeit behind the eyes thou hast thro' which I 'hold naught else -- a flame enshroud'd in its blackness; but the raven; -- burning without the faintest breeze. sleep my d

by Theatre of Tragedy on album A Rose for the Dead

my eyes hold the eventide, -- albeit behind the eyes thou hast thro' which I 'hold naught else -- a flame enshroud'd in its blackness; but the raven; -- burning without the faintest breeze. sleep my d

by Theatre of Tragedy on album Orkus Collection 1

my eyes hold the eventide, -- albeit behind the eyes thou hast thro' which I 'hold naught else -- a flame enshroud'd in its blackness; but the raven; -- burning without the faintest breeze. sleep my d

by Theatre of Tragedy on album Velvet Darkness They Fear

my eyes hold the eventide, -- albeit behind the eyes thou hast thro' which I 'hold naught else -- a flame enshroud'd in its blackness; but the raven; -- burning without the faintest breeze. sleep my d

by Theatre of Tragedy on album Theatre of Tragedy

Play by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy "Hap mirthfulness! - Oh! joy of grand riddance; Undress me my hauberk! - the wyvern hath errant'd." "Ire of yore - bard of e'eryears - I deem the brood hat

by Theatre of Tragedy on album Theatre of Tragedy

-- oh - my dearest; the sweet music in the ear - -- albeit, daresay I, the lullaby of an everso dark sleep. my precious, likest thou what emergeth yon the distant? the throbbing and breathing of life

by Theatre of Tragedy on album Theatre of Tragedy

Whether the thonéd Monarch weareth the crown Which I know not whether to his belongeth Doth he hence the sceptre sway? Seasoneth he justice? - Daresay I he doth not Will he then use his sceptre as a

by Theatre of Tragedy on album Theatre of Tragedy

Harken! - teh clouds mustered in dark - So painfully easing. Hush! - hearest ye the yew doting; Its years of yore in a mïre, Each like a corpse within its grave; Wrought for us a yearn of lief;

by Theatre of Tragedy on album Theatre of Tragedy

Harken! - teh clouds mustered in dark - So painfully easing. Hush! - hearest ye the yew doting; Its years of yore in a mïre, Each like a corpse within its grave; Wrought for us a yearn of lief;

by Theatre of Tragedy on album Theatre of Tragedy

Harken! - teh clouds mustered in dark - So painfully easing. Hush! - hearest ye the yew doting; Its years of yore in a mïre, Each like a corpse within its grave; Wrought for us a yearn of lief;

by Theatre of Tragedy on album Theatre Of Tragedy

Harken! - teh clouds mustered in dark - So painfully easing. Hush! - hearest ye the yew doting; Its years of yore in a mïre, Each like a corpse within its grave; Wrought for us a yearn of lief;

by Theatre of Tragedy on album Theatre of Tragedy

Harken! - teh clouds mustered in dark - So painfully easing. Hush! - hearest ye the yew doting; Its years of yore in a mïre, Each like a corpse within its grave; Wrought for us a yearn of lief;