Black As The Devil Painteth lyrics

Artist	Theatre Of Tragedy
Album(s)	Der Tanz Der Schatten

Lyrics

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
Minding not that my hands are more than apt;
My muse

Where is hidden
The blue-huéd arch'neath the high heaven's rich emblazonry
The flowery meadow, embrac'd by the horizon - snowflakéd and aery mountains
In which the barebreastéd maidens dance to the lay o' midsummer
Aloft the distant lazy flapping of the doves in vainglore

O canvas!, wherefore canst thou these images not allow? -
I deem a projection of my theatre they should be! -
Then, I challenge thee the wisdom of naysaying the yearns o' mine -
What is this unforseen that not enjoineth light shades to be skillfully paintéd?

The raven sky prey'd on by the snowfill'd, blustery clouds
Unadornéd the meadow - hunger driveth the wolf out of the wood
The maidens chainéd and whippéd within a dreary dungeon -
And, lo! 'twixt the wizen roses a mossy grave:
"The devil is as black as he painteth" -
O canvas! wherefore?..

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