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The gates are closed, the bolts are welded they've left the red death far behind in the abbey's deep seclusion there's just beauty, there is wine |
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The external world is dying death is raging in the shade no time to think about the terror let's celebrate the masquerade |
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But who's that stranger in the dark? his vesture is dabbled in blood his masque shows scarlet signs of pest masque of the red death |
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The fete is held in seven clambers triponds spread a gleaming light glare and glitter, madman fashions feverish dreams in the dead of night |
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The mighty clock strikes twelve, it's midnight and the echoes fade away the crowd becomes aware of a figure dressed in cerements of the grave but who's that... |
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Try to catch him, try to gasp him try to seize and to unmask him prince |
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Prospero foams with rage |
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But he cries out and his death-shout took possession of the whole crowd 'cause the red death entered their cage |
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Darkness and decay, and the red death holds dominion over all |