Hollow Hearted Heart Departed
Filthy harlots, the Lord's grape
With lore ornamented entreating
Hollow-hearted, heart-departed
Yet thou reapest the blooming rose
When 'tis the weed which is to be swathed
I do, in the blooming flower (in the blooming flower)
And me in the yesterdays bind (pleasure find)
Innocence is reserved for the meek
Of naught is my grasp ne'er to be
Hah, for thee even a hound holdeth the throne
Unwanted child of mother, plague of plagues
Father of leprous children
I wield ye to stint this brawl
Nigh is the ford, yet harken, do not thwart
Desirest thou to do it withal
I shall cause thy body by one head too short
Sayest ye nay to my boon
Then wilt thou from bloodshed swoon
Err me not, must ye bethink my foolhardiness
Be vanished, be banished if ye deemest me not wroth
My hand hieth to unsheathe the sword lest thou dost totter
Whid along, wherefore irk my haughtiness?
My haughtiness
Wherefore bereave the kine of the sward? (No man, no man at all)
Wherefore holdest thou (be it lord or beggar)
For me such a quailing scowl? (Bereaveth my dignity)
Loom my darling sun
Bear the scarlet colour
With lore ornamented entreating
Hollow-hearted, heart-departed
Yet thou reapest the blooming rose
When 'tis the weed which is to be swathed
I do, in the blooming flower (in the blooming flower)
And me in the yesterdays bind (pleasure find)
Innocence is reserved for the meek
Of naught is my grasp ne'er to be
Hah, for thee even a hound holdeth the throne
Unwanted child of mother, plague of plagues
Father of leprous children
I wield ye to stint this brawl
Nigh is the ford, yet harken, do not thwart
Desirest thou to do it withal
I shall cause thy body by one head too short
Sayest ye nay to my boon
Then wilt thou from bloodshed swoon
Err me not, must ye bethink my foolhardiness
Be vanished, be banished if ye deemest me not wroth
My hand hieth to unsheathe the sword lest thou dost totter
Whid along, wherefore irk my haughtiness?
My haughtiness
Wherefore bereave the kine of the sward? (No man, no man at all)
Wherefore holdest thou (be it lord or beggar)
For me such a quailing scowl? (Bereaveth my dignity)
Loom my darling sun
Bear the scarlet colour
Credits
Writer(s): Theatre Of Tragedy, Rohonyi
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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