Print

Eternal thirst for creation When he became like the Lord The painter believed that some time He would paint a picture and it will revive But hours of heavenly inspiration Could not save for the want. Time out of mind the grief came in our homes With the dying of dearest man your soul's been becoming the stone In fit of despair you appealing for heaven's sake But They don't hear the prayer and she will never wake. He thought, his art, far above the death And the painter refired, going on paint. While under his city spread the wings The Black Death and ruled Her ball on the streets. But ruthless evil had touched him by bony hand. She, he loved dying, had lain on deathbed. In fit of despair he appealed for God's sake But he didn't hear the prayer and she will never wake. He cursed the people, he cursed god He heard the Devil and chose own lot. The black agreement sighed by blood Letras de cancionesIt remained to blend paints with ash of her heart... By the last touch the portrait finished And at that instant it came to life. But her cold fingering and spiritless sight In a flash sobered down his desire Without the heart she's only lifeless image Nobody twice bear under these skies. And he cut the canvas, beyond expiation Shape of the one, he loved turned into ash In fit of despair he appealed for Devil's sake. But he didn't hear the prayer and she will never wake. [December 1994] From Letras Mania