The Poet and the Pendulum
[Part 1: White Lands of Empathica]
The end.
The songwriter’s dead.The blade fell upon himTaking him to the white lands of Empathica, of Innocence…EmpathicaInnocence
[Part 2: Home]
The dreamer and the winePoet without a rhymeA widowed writer torn apart by chains of hell
One last perfect verseIs still the same old songOh Christ how I hate what I have become
Take me home
Getaway, runaway, fly awayLead me astray to dreamer’s hideawayI cannot cry ’cause the shoulder cries moreI cannot die, I, a whore for the cold worldForgive meI have but two facesOne for the worldOne for GodSave meI cannot cry ’cause the shoulder cries moreI cannot die, I, a whore for the cold world
My home was there ’n’ thenThose meadows of heavenAdventure-filled daysOne with every smiling face
Please, no more wordsThoughts from a severed headNo more praiseTell me once my heart goes right
Take me home
Getaway, runaway, fly awayLead me astray to dreamer’s hideawayI cannot cry ’cause the shoulder cries moreI cannot die, I, a whore for the cold worldForgive meI have but two facesOne for the worldOne for GodSave meI cannot cry ’cause the shoulder cries moreI cannot die, I, a whore for the cold world
[Part 3: The Pacific]
Sparkle my sceneryWith turquoise waterfallWith beauty underneathThe Ever Free
Tuck me in beneath the blueBeneath the pain, beneath the rainGoodnight kiss for a child in timeSwaying blade my lullaby
On the shore we sat and hopedUnder the same pale moonWhose guiding light chose youChose you all
‘I’m afraid. I’m so afraid.Being raped again, and again, and againI know I will die alone.But loved.
You live long enough to hear the sound of guns,long enough to find yourself screaming every night,long enough to see your friends betray you.
For years I’ve been strapped unto this altar.Now I only have three minutes and counting.I just wish the tide would catch me first and give me a death I always longed for.’
[Part 4: Dark Passion Play]
2nd robber to the right of ChristCut in half – infanticideThe world will rejoice todayAs the crows feast on the rotting poet
Everyone must bury their ownNo pack to bury the heart of stoneNow he's home in hell, serves him wellSlain by the bell, tolling for his farewell
The morning dawned, upon his altarRemains of the dark passion playPerformed by his friends without shameSpitting on his grave as they came
Getaway, runaway, fly awayLead me astray to dreamer's hideawayI cannot cry ’cause the shoulder cries moreI cannot die, I, a whore for the cold worldForgive meI have but two facesOne for the worldOne for GodSave meI cannot cry ’cause the shoulder cries moreI cannot die, I, a whore for the cold world
‘Today, in the year of our Lord 2005,Tuomas was called from the cares of the world.He stopped crying at the end of each beautiful day.The music he wrote had too long been without silence.
He was found naked and dead,With a smile in his face, a pen and 1,000 pages of erased text.’
Save me
[Part 5: Mother & Father]
Be still, my sonYou're homeOh when did you become so cold?The blade will keep on descendingAll you need is to feel my love
Search for beauty, find your shoreTry to save them all, bleed no moreYou have such oceans withinIn the endI will always love you
The beginning.