Black As The Devil Painteth Lyrics

Finally, one place where you can find ALL of the Black As The Devil Painteth lyrics by Theatre Of Tragedy. See the line you could never quite figure out on your own? All of our Theatre Of Tragedy, Black As The Devil Painteth lyrics have been recreated with the original spellings, grammar and meanings. Notice also in some instances Black As The Devil Painteth footnotes and Theatre Of Tragedy lyrics details that never made it to the Theatre Of Tragedy CD cover, featuring Black As The Devil Painteth lyrics.

Black As The Devil Painteth Lyrics

by Theatre Of Tragedy

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! passionlessly 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 aëry 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