Hier eentje van de band My Dying Bride - Fallen Angel.

For My Fallen Angel

As I draw up my breath,
And silver fills my eyes.
I kiss her still,
For she will never rise.

On my weak body,
Lays her dying hand.
Through those meadows of Heaven,
Where we ran.

Like a thief in the night,
The wind blows so light.
It wars with my tears,
That won't dry for many years.

"Loves golden arrow
At her should have fled,
And not Deaths ebon dart
To strike her dead."

[Dit bericht is gewijzigd door Koekepan op 30-08-2001 14:21]

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Op donderdag 30 augustus 2001 14:18 schreef Koekepan het volgende:
Annabel Lee

IT was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought 5
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love,
I and my Annabel Lee; 10
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling 15
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea. 20

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me;
Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night, 25
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we,
Of many far wiser than we;
And neither the angels in heaven above, 30
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; 35
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea, 40
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

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Op donderdag 30 augustus 2001 14:20 schreef Aneurism het volgende:
Mooi, gaat niet echt over dood

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On October 3, 1996, Doreen Lioy, 41, got married to Death Row inmate Richard Ramirez, 36, "The Night Stalker," in a simple and tasteful ceremony in San Quentin's waiting room. Lioy, a free-lance editor who works part-time for teen magazines, lives in a houseboat, has bachelor's degree in English literature, and is said to have an IQ of 152. She doesn't smoke or curse and claims to still be a virgin. Ramirez, on the other hand, who is into Satanism and heavy metal, has been convicted of 13 rape/murders in Los Angeles and has another count pending in San Francisco.

On the day of the wedding the bride showed up at the prison gates in a white wedding dress with chiffon sleeves accompanied by two attorneys. Ramirez, wearing starched prison blues with no restraints, was joined by his brother, his sister and his 17-year-old niece.

The ceremony was held in the prison's main visiting room. There were about 60 or so prisoners and their visitors standing by oblivious to the proceedings. Two other inmates also got married. But Richard was the first to tie the knot. The wedding was not religious -- a simple rite with Joseph Ramirez acting as best man. There was no maid of honor, and no one from the Lioy family showed up. After making their vows, the happy couple exchanged rings, and were introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Richard Ramirez. Then, they kissed.

Doreen was first attracted to Richard in 1985 when she saw a picture of him in the paper wearing a bandage The devoted lover, she wrote 75 letters to her jailhouse Romeo. Nine months later, she was allowed to visit him for the first time. They first got engaged in 1988, but prison regulations delayed the wedding. Sadly for the newlyweds Death Row inmates are not allowed to enjoy conjugal visits, therefore making the consummation of their love an impossibility.

As the glowing bride emerged from the prison, she told the waiting throng of cameramen and reporters, "I just want to say I am ecstatically happy today and very, very proud to have married Richard and be his wife. And I hope that you will be very respectful of the day and let me go and enjoy my day in peace."

This is Doreen Ramirez. After viewing several websites pertaining to my husband, Richard--including yours--I feel compelled to inform you that I am appalled to read the inaccuracies and, in some cases, outright lies, about my husband and myself. People who do not even know either of us are spewing outrageous opinions which they are passing off as facts, when it is patently clear they know nearly nothing about Richard's case. I appeal to all intelligent persons not to believe everything which is being presented about Richard in the media. The facts of his case ultimately will confirm that Richard is a wrongly-convicted man, and I believe fervently that his innocence will be proven to the world. Thank you.

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Op donderdag 30 augustus 2001 14:24 schreef mob_boss het volgende:
gaat niet over dood maar over charles manson, maar die vermoorde er wel 7 dus het gaat toch over de dood

On October 3, 1996, Doreen Lioy, 41, got married to Death Row inmate Richard Ramirez, 36, "The Night Stalker," in a simple and tasteful ceremony in San Quentin's waiting room. Lioy, a free-lance editor who works part-time for teen magazines, lives in a houseboat, has bachelor's degree in English literature, and is said to have an IQ of 152. She doesn't smoke or curse and claims to still be a virgin. Ramirez, on the other hand, who is into Satanism and heavy metal, has been convicted of 13 rape/murders in Los Angeles and has another count pending in San Francisco.

On the day of the wedding the bride showed up at the prison gates in a white wedding dress with chiffon sleeves accompanied by two attorneys. Ramirez, wearing starched prison blues with no restraints, was joined by his brother, his sister and his 17-year-old niece.

The ceremony was held in the prison's main visiting room. There were about 60 or so prisoners and their visitors standing by oblivious to the proceedings. Two other inmates also got married. But Richard was the first to tie the knot. The wedding was not religious -- a simple rite with Joseph Ramirez acting as best man. There was no maid of honor, and no one from the Lioy family showed up. After making their vows, the happy couple exchanged rings, and were introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Richard Ramirez. Then, they kissed.

Doreen was first attracted to Richard in 1985 when she saw a picture of him in the paper wearing a bandage The devoted lover, she wrote 75 letters to her jailhouse Romeo. Nine months later, she was allowed to visit him for the first time. They first got engaged in 1988, but prison regulations delayed the wedding. Sadly for the newlyweds Death Row inmates are not allowed to enjoy conjugal visits, therefore making the consummation of their love an impossibility.

As the glowing bride emerged from the prison, she told the waiting throng of cameramen and reporters, "I just want to say I am ecstatically happy today and very, very proud to have married Richard and be his wife. And I hope that you will be very respectful of the day and let me go and enjoy my day in peace."

This is Doreen Ramirez. After viewing several websites pertaining to my husband, Richard--including yours--I feel compelled to inform you that I am appalled to read the inaccuracies and, in some cases, outright lies, about my husband and myself. People who do not even know either of us are spewing outrageous opinions which they are passing off as facts, when it is patently clear they know nearly nothing about Richard's case. I appeal to all intelligent persons not to believe everything which is being presented about Richard in the media. The facts of his case ultimately will confirm that Richard is a wrongly-convicted man, and I believe fervently that his innocence will be proven to the world. Thank you.

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Imagine there's no heaven,
It's easy if you try,
No hell below us,
Above us only sky,
Imagine all the people
living for today...

Imagine there's no countries,
It isnt hard to do,
Nothing to kill or die for,
No religion too,
Imagine all the people
living life in peace...

Imagine no possesions,
I wonder if you can,
No need for greed or hunger,
A brotherhood of man,
imane all the people
Sharing all the world...

You may say Im a dreamer,
but Im not the only one,
I hope some day you'll join us,
And the world will live as one

.
Wij dragen zwarte kleren.
Onze muziek is kut met peren.
Het liefst vallen we allemaal dood
zoals een huilregenbui in een dakgooth.
.

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Op donderdag 30 augustus 2001 14:39 schreef Madeliefje het volgende:
Hier een van Madeliefje.

Wij dragen zwarte kleren.
Onze muziek is kut met peren.
Het liefst vallen we allemaal dood
zoals een huilregenbui in een dakgooth.[/i]

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I visioned you, a dream of drowning
But joyous, triumphant, epiphanic
Farewell to the sky gods, the sylphs, the salt air
Withdrawn into subterranean seclusion
Borne away upon jangling golden bridges.
Safe. At last. Leave us.

And, losing you, inviolate isle
I too withdrew, to muse on Mayan forests
Crumbling temples, bloody altars
Coca-stoned pilgrims queued beneath canopies
Eyes bright as gold leaf, lit up by avatars
Clenching bone necklaces, dancing of dreaming
Slouching towards anthropological oblivion.
Safe. At last. Leave us.

Thence to Salisbury Plain
Sun-drenched hillocks, curiously treeless
And nary a quarry in sight
Buttery Cotswolds to the South notwithstanding
Stones erected in starlit ceremony
No one knows who they were, or, what they were doing.
A thin golden sickle grubby with oakmoss
The only romance I seem likely to conjure.
Safe. At last. Leave us.

Plundering the barren marshes of Denmark
Cloying peat liquor like bog-distilled perfume
Scorching my throat with malt and smoke.
I toast my newfound friends, my friends!
Blesséd, adornéd, anointed, beatific,
Poisoned, garroted, drowned, beaten,
Tannin-wizened harvest lords and wintry queens
Bedecked with silver bowls, golden torques.
Safe. At last. Leave us.

Uninitiated, yearning, green
I stalk, I roam, I borrow books
Knowing I trespass, smitten and shameless
Opportunistic crypto-zoologist
Armed with ink, drunk on pseudo-history
Would hunt the narwhal, molest manatees, poach plesiosaurs
And happily suck seawater until I die
If death by drowning yielded up some slippery treasure
Glimpse of gold coins on vermilion sands
Flow of words, cold grasp of hands
Understanding.

Where did you go?
And where did I stay?

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Op donderdag 30 augustus 2001 19:13 schreef Hooghoudt het volgende:
Als je dan toch in het buitenlands wil schrijven, doe dat dan in het Duits, dat is tenminste een mooie taal

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Op donderdag 30 augustus 2001 20:19 schreef bixister het volgende:
ja toll, wie Go(e)the zum Beispiel.

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Allerdings

Dem Physiker

»Ins Innre der Natur -«
O du Philister! -
»Dringt kein erschaffner Geist.«
Mich und Geschwister
Mögt ihr an solches Wort
Nur nicht erinnern: Wir denken:
Ort für Ort Sind wir im Innern.

»Glückselig, wem sie nur
Die äußre Schale weist!«
Das hör ich sechzig Jahre wiederholen,
Ich fluche drauf, aber verstohlen;

Sage mir tausend tausend Male:
Alles gibt sie reichlich und gern;
Natur hat weder Kern Noch Schale,
Alles ist sie mit einem Male.

Dich prüfe du nur allermeist,
Ob du Kern oder Schale seist.

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Auferstehung

Der Graf vernimmt die Töne,
er sieht einen lichten Riß;
er weckt seine dreizehn Söhne
im Erb-Begräbnis.

Er grüßt seine beiden Frauen
ehrerbietig von weit -;
und alle, voll Vertrauen,
stehn auf zur Ewigkeit

und warten nur noch auf Erich
und Ulriken Dorotheen,
die, sieben- und dreizehnjährig,
(sechzehnhundertzehn)
verstorben sind im Flandern,
um heute vor den andern
unbeirrt herzugehn.

Aus: Neue Gedichte (1907)

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Meine Augen sind so dunkel,
Auch sind die Visionen schwarz,
Schwarz wie die Nacht;
Der Dämmerzustand des Menschen -
Ist meine Zeit des Daseins.

Ich bin so alleine;
Einsamkeit in Ewigkeit -
Gedanken nur für mich,
Mit dem Schatten flüstere ich -
Mit dem Schatten tanze ich -
Einsam wandere ich,
Das Blut begehre ich: Totentanz.

Den tödlichen Kuß zu empfangen;
Folge der Finsternis in das Nichts! -
Süßer Nektar auf deinen Lippen;
Ein Rinnsal blutfeuchtes Leben,
Ich lecke die Liebe aus deinem Gesicht,
Ich lecke den Haß aus deinem Gesicht..

Ein so berauschendes Gefühl:
Meine bittere Existenz zu schmecken!

Gebe dich mir hin!,
Ich war von Trauer erfüllt,
Ich war so untröstlich,
Doch du hast die Liebe entfacht...

Tanze nicht mehr mit dem Schatten,
Tanze bitte nicht über das Grab;
Tanze mit mir den Walzer Luzifers.
Ich sehne mich deine Braut zu sein
- Um zu Finsternis zu werden.

Für immer und unendlich:
Ein Seelsorger deiner bin ich.

Laß mich Deinen Kuß begrüßen:
Den selbstzerstörerischen Kuß...

...Bis ich sterbe, umarme mich,
Und ich werde wieder auferstehen...
Ich liebe dich...

Tristania - My lost Lenore...

For thy promise bewailed
by her raveneyes
by her beauty and a scarlet sunrise
May thy river bury her silvertears
A fallen angel... enshrined in moonlit seas

Leaving vitality
so serene breeds my darkness
Entreating winterwinds
though I leave... I embrace thee

Winternight
conceal thy precious angellore
I secrete my soul
under thy wings of sorrow
Dark I embrace thy eyes
wander lost on life's narrow path
I reveal my heart
to this beauty dressed in dark

Grieving raveneyes
falls asleep with the sunrise
Delightful midsummer breeze
though I leave... I await thee

Grant me thy last midsummer breeze
May thou ascend from endless sleep
... my desire
Dance me above thy moonli seas
Glance yearningly into the deep
a cold and weary night

Widwinternight
Descending me like flakes of snow
I embrace the cold
for a life that morrows
Dark I embrace thy heart
Wanderer lost beyond veils of dawn
I conceal thy loss
enthralled in life yett still I mourn
My lost Lenore...

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Op donderdag 30 augustus 2001 23:08 schreef Aneurism het volgende:
wauw die is wel echt verdomde mooi !

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* Wisp krijgt altijd kippevel bij dat nummer

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Op donderdag 30 augustus 2001 23:08 schreef Aneurism het volgende:
wauw die is wel echt verdomde mooi !

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Op donderdag 30 augustus 2001 23:14 schreef Koekepan het volgende:

[..]

Goed dat je dat zegt, dan hoef ik 'm niet te lezen.

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For that viper that grows inside your head
she remains there waiting to be fed
self made parasite speculating about the end

Can you forgive her?

Back into the womb of this holy woman
else pregnant of an entire breed
of men afraid to create, to take place and to proceed

Can you forgive them ?

They promised me a miracle
a private god for me to hold

Can you forgive me?

They promised me a miracle
someone to really love

Can you forgive me ?

Your handmade god
is back into your womb

Is it right to indulge on an ecstasy
of creating a god that sees what I see,
looks exactly like me ,rather what I wanted to be

Can you forgive me?

For that viper that grew inside my head
for having betrayed you so well

can you forgive me ?

They promised me a miracle
when all my crimes will be just one
but now is gone
They promised me a miracle.
Back to your womb it feels so cold.

"A Wintersunset..." CD
"Autumn grey views "

Lifeless they fall apart
Golden as our precious art
My love sinks into a thick grey veil of mist
Trees, leafless trees, the epitaph of the sun
What once was green presents now grey and trist
A gloomy grave, a foreseen death, a symbol for our pain
Drowned in a flood of autumn rain
Sillouettes of light astray somewhere in the clouds
Ravens traverse, involving withering shrouds

note: Unfortunately, the rest of the lyrics on this LP is unavailable to anyone.

"Songs of Moors & Misty Fields" CD

"When Shadows grow longer"

When shadows grow longer and the sun sets for the forthcoming night; our sorrow is stronger as darkness and death are now near by our side. Many a sun will set and tears of grief will be shed.......

"The Blue Mists of Night"

...and many a moon shall rise... ...and lead me into the cold embrace of the night Here we drown in our grief, drown in an absence of light. Here is no shelter; no escape from our heart, Entwined in this tragic embrace I fear and bemourn to depart. When the shadows fall, and the sun sets in us all... Just silent hopes remain & the aching grief that grows into a bottomless vale I fall - O, I give myself away... Away! Far away! To this dim and misty place My heart reflects the night... Languid moonshine I bath my skin in thee O may thy beauty be revealed in me. Silent winds, whisper to me thy songs of solitude and joy...

"Mourners"

Meagre trees in the shrouds, as olde as the stones.... Mourners of abandon'd love, forever their woes shall grow silent. O how many times may the moon has shone - reflected in these black lakes? Should it be that can hear, the woes of those who ceased their lifes? O so old they are... they bare the neverending grief... Age-old miserability Ancient bitter beauty Lost is the hope of those, who walk the moors with pain in heart. ...and all joy it sinks, burried deep, forever presumed dead. O, so old they are... they bare the neverending grief... Age - old miserability, a bitter beauty thrilling me.

"Lover's Grief"

O gothic moon thy shine encharmest me tonight Bereavest me of sleep, makest me wander under thy light. Thou letst abloom my heart until the very last of thy ray, Shine! Bereaver of sleep, ere black clouds hide thee away.... I know this can't be eternal! No love hath ever conquered the borders of time! No beauty is everlasting, not even thine! But o how I wished your heart would fore'er be mine... Thy eyes caress myself to endure these painful lies... The moon's arsistance makest me ask... Why can't we be stars? Stars that shine forever... Stars that unite with the night... At the horizon the dark stormclouds of sorrow have gathered their might, neither the moon nor the stars reveal their light this night ...and rain is falling, pouring down into my soul, while wild weeping clouds enwrapp me in their woe.

"Ode to Melancholy"

Melancholy - still my desire for thy precious tragedian wine... Sweep me away, into the vale of thine! Where sorrow's strong and so is joy. Melancholy - still my desire, O let my heart by thee inspire... O fill the air with thy sweet scent, Let thy light, thy star crescent. Wherever she dwells I will bid a farewell sigh For she dwells with beauty - beauty that must die And deep inside me I will wait for her return To her enchanting, awe-inspiring flame I'll yearn O lust and rueful thought be mine, My soul enhanced, desires... Melancholy. My heart is thine.

"The ensemble of silence"

And again the moon is on the wave, gliding gently into me, on silent wings the night comes from there, as my heart longs to thee.....for in my hand I still hold the rose that froze long times ago, its leafs have withered, it ceased to grow - left in me is woe. The wine of love, is o so sweet, but bitter is regret, I knew at sunset I would meet the ascending veils of dread. Before my eyes nocturnal curtains fall, The dark and gentle haze of the night, greedily devours all. The Night: "Woe to him whose heart is filled with bitter rue and who drowns in grief" In the silence of the night I loose myself, it makes me drunken with its sweet blue sound. In the drunk'ness of solitude I fear no more the solemn realms of death No single sigh from my lips as I drink the wine of bitterness My heart is aching nevermore for I know that all may end
Just I and the poetry of the night Now forever one.... Just I and the poetry of the night, now forever one, The ensemble of silence plays so beautiful for me...

"Where at night the wood grouse plays" CD

"Where at night the wood grouse plays"

When through the starry night
the mists of autumn glide
the air is filled with tragedies of olden times

Where with a dreadful tone
a nightbird plays its song
in forest dark at moors they come to life...

"Dying brokenhearted"

A bed of moss was granted,
she laid down with a sigh,
Embraced by the green blankets
she kissed the world goodbye.

"The shepherd and the maiden ghost"

't was an eve in late summer, autumn was nigh
still a warm sun did colour the sky
The meadows did shine in a strange golden light
and vales did forth the soft haze of night

When through the air a voice did resound
beckoning the shepherd to rise from the ground

The shepherd:
'What sweet voice does sing in such a woebegone tone?
What maiden does wander the heather alone?'

Bewitched by its tone, he followed her song,
whilst the sun did descend and the shadows grew long
In the dim light of dusk, near the sparkling cascade
on a moss covered stone sat a crying young maid

The shepherd:
'Why art thou dreary? What happened to thee?
What song didst thou sing so woefully?'

The maiden:
'Go whither O shepherd! Don't sadden thine heart
Thou canst not help me - not thou who thou art!
An old man who's been born in a cradle of wood
of a tree that at least a hundred years stood,
cut by a boy who at heart was still pure -
might be my redeemer if he knew that he could...

"The sad song of the wind"

Bes till, O wand'rer!
Dost thou not hear the sad song of night?
How the wind does beckon thee to the rest of a while
and to lend him thine ear?

What woeful tale does it tell tonight?
What tragedy of old?

"Wehmut"

(instrumental)

"A pastoral theme"

(instrumental)

"Abendrot"

(instrumental)

"Many moons ago..."

A night of december so dark and cold,
I walked a path ages old
The moon amongst the clouds revealed
lightning valleys, forest and field

Embraced by silence I wandered the moor
an endless landscape by my side
when in the mist I saw a light
dancing through the hazy night

I stood and watched the play in awe
was deeply touched by what I saw
I told my friends what I did see
and what they told did tremble me!

It's said the ghost of a young, fair maid
is cursed to dwell beneath the shade
of the olden oak she died below
O that was many moons ago!

"When shadows grow longer" (99 version)

When shadows grow longer
and the sun sets for the forthcoming night;
our sorrow is stronger
as darkness and death are now near by our side.

Many a sun will set
and tears of grief will be shed.

ALL CREDITS BY THE GERMANIC-NEO-FOLK BAND EMPIRIUM !!!