Текст (слова) песни: Theatre Of Tragedy - To These Words I Beheld No Tongue
Whether the throned 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 wand? - Where doth sit my awe? - Trieth me conjure; Perchance a spell?; a reptile, a sullied hound? - Is the gentle rain a quality of his? - I bethink this fro my thoughts; hitherto, about this, I beheld to these words no tongue; are the Monarch`s men his thralls or his servants? - Oft I waylay my tongue - Those of which are withal by my gnarled heart not heed`d; Or doth the throstle sing with more glee At daybreak than than a twilight? - Brawl not my imp, nor my cherub; reserve my judgement - Crave not the sword when the bodkin fro ere thine is; That undiscover`d country; be that Of calamity, be that of joy, be that of apathy; Tread not paths of new when those of old are Far by an only single footstep; walk, be it On the left, on the right - be it the one which Straight forward leadeth; the one of correct I have as until now not heed`d any signs of!
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