Danse Macabre Tristesse
"® Writing poetry in the fields of Bretagne ¯ expresses a wish that never
happened. The sentence came to me when being on tour with my band. We were
crossing the land of Bretagne and the landscape with it's woods and menhirs
seemed so inviting. Visions of Celtic traditions and legends immediately came to
mind and the unreachable within reach. Due to a busy schedule it was impossible
to stop and really taste the atmosphere. It always has been my experience that
events that ALMOST took place are the most inspiring for reality had no grip on
the whole. This way a strange kind of magic, a dreamworld even, can remain
intact."
Blood red skies like a messenger of doom
Skeletons on parade in villages on fire
Divine maidens suffering from the plague
Apocalypse my friend put these cities into dust
Dust on coffin lits
Tales never told
Citizens living in cages of glass
Writing poetry in the fields of bretagne
But hear the cries of a distant battle
Cardinals in decay and Gods who failed everywhere
Nero's fiddle distuned, Rome into flames
With wings wide spread I wish to fly
Like an eagle embracing the sky
Dying during a final flight
Oh deliver me from life
Plundering savages drunk with bloodlust
Knights in armour now long vanished
Jesters holding the crown
Noblesse fading away
Noblesses fading
Blood red skies like a messenger of doom
Skeletons on parade in villages on fire
Divine maidens suffering from the plague
Apocalypse my friend put these cities into dust
Dust on coffin lits
Tales never told
Citizens living in cages of glass
Writing poetry in the fields of Bretagne
But hear the cries of a distant battle
Cardinals in decay
Gods who failed everywhere
Gods who failed...
TRISTESSE!
