歌曲 | Alas (The Knight) |
歌手 | Emilie Autumn |
专辑 | Your Sugar Sits Untouched |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
Alas | |
My love | |
If I could make you live | |
And from the page | |
Step forth and sit beside me | |
Or better still | |
Bestride the steed I gave you | |
Wrapped close within the cloak | |
I lent to hide thee | |
Perhaps I’d venture forth to ask thy name | |
Since while thou liest underneath my pen | |
That honour given | |
Which the poorest claim | |
Unjustly was withheld | |
But if again | |
I held thee captive | |
As I did ere now | |
Stalling to pass my fingers through the last | |
Of midnight tendrils | |
Or peruse thy brow | |
In fear of sending off what heaven cast | |
Too early | |
For my insufficient mind | |
To grasp the fullest detail | |
And retain | |
The presence | |
That your image left behind | |
That thou in all thy glory should remain | |
I fear my oversight | |
I would not mend | |
For now upon reflection | |
I confess | |
That secretly | |
I never did intend | |
With title long | |
Or surname rich | |
To bless | |
But rather | |
Let in my imagination | |
Run wild the thoughts of | |
Who perhaps you were | |
Before your soul | |
Demanded your creation | |
And deigned my mind | |
And willing heart to stir | |
For such a noble | |
And impassioned face | |
Could well be but | |
Newborn unto this sphere | |
But sure among a distant | |
Beauteous race | |
Thou hast known more than all who dwelleth here | |
And could tell much of places thou hast seen | |
And battles fought | |
For honours won and lost | |
And how each service | |
Done a faerie Queen | |
Becomes | |
A brighter jewel than it cost | |
The ladies of your world | |
You may impart | |
Desire to be neither | |
Over-graced | |
Nor underrepresented in the art | |
Of living | |
Where their lips were meant to taste | |
A sort of feline stealth | |
They wear about them | |
And while a flame of innocence they hold | |
In forests dark | |
You fear to be without them | |
For knights of maler kinds are ne’er so bold | |
Yes, in thy orb a maid may be a knight | |
(Thou knew’st a friend would make upon this news) | |
Without a whisper loud | |
Or censure slight | |
For lords are not afeared | |
Their stock to lose | |
Where no stock may be taken | |
Or be kept | |
No property be granted | |
Nor no bride | |
No maiden | |
May be stolen while she slept | |
Nor robbed of her freedom | |
To decide | |
What suits her best | |
No county’s law is needed | |
To cut the weed of violence from the stem | |
No danger for the law to go unheeded | |
For acts as these | |
Do not occur to them | |
The gentlemen you raise | |
Are rarer still | |
For in their eyes, as in the depths of thine | |
Such soft | |
And thrilling mysteries fulfill | |
The darkest corners of their heart’s design | |
Their arrows | |
Much like those I gave to thee | |
Could not but graze the flank of yonder cow | |
Without making him laugh | |
‘Tis much to see | |
Them tickling their prey | |
I know not | |
How | |
They ever do | |
Encapture what they eat | |
Save that perhaps | |
Their bright unfettered brains | |
Have learned that | |
What grows underneath their feet | |
And in the trees above | |
Better sustains | |
A life | |
Intent on living well tomorrow | |
But how | |
I ask thee | |
Most endearing fiend | |
Do lords and ladies love | |
Where is no | |
Sorrow | |
No strife to overcome | |
No soul uncleaned | |
Of crushing ardor | |
Long worn out its stay | |
Betrothal to a mortal less divine | |
Than that who stole thy blushing breath away | |
No hot | |
Forbidden kisses for to pine | |
No heart affixed to age | |
Where heart is young | |
No ill intentioned suitors to evade? | |
“Still madam! | |
Would'st thou kindly hold thy tongue” | |
Thou sayest | |
“Your mistake has rash been made | |
In living long | |
In combat with your kind | |
Thou see’st no other obstacle but these | |
Thy hands are careworn | |
Yet to find | |
The hands that first should hold them | |
Yet to please the hierarchy | |
Which you serve unwitting | |
Thou dost believe that love in fighting grows | |
That happiness | |
In love | |
Is not befitting | |
But in thy sadness | |
Thou mak’st light of woes | |
For even were there ne’er a cloudy day | |
No tempest | |
To divide what love had bound | |
The galley | |
Which the moon holds in her sway | |
Could not but stir | |
The peace it finally found | |
The wound is deeper than the sea about thee | |
The stars upon my doublet | |
You have drawn | |
May light my homeward path | |
But how | |
Without me | |
Wilt thou escape the fate | |
Thou tremblest on?” | |
And in this way | |
And more my paper spoke | |
O, fierce, savage | |
Gentle beauty bright | |
Thou who I’ve given breath | |
My soul has broke | |
You had authority | |
But not the right | |
Could I but see the lips | |
That dare not breathe | |
They are so beautiful | |
And pressing sweet | |
Could I but touch the wings that underneath | |
Are made so soft | |
Thy heart forgets to beat | |
Perhaps I should have more | |
For which to strive | |
You came to my domain | |
And brought despair | |
For though I be the chastest heart alive | |
The realm you speak of | |
Will not take me there | |
Have you no pity? | |
Can’st thou not perceive | |
That I, a blinded beast | |
Had but the eyes | |
To see where I would love? | |
Dost thou believe | |
That ere you came | |
I was but vain disguise? | |
I know the murmur of music reveals | |
The things no human heart could comprehend | |
I render’st thou for all that torment feels | |
And longed to be thy lordship’s | |
Faithful friend | |
Yea, quiet as a mushroom | |
Did I wait | |
I willed to thee my form | |
To overtake | |
I shivered at each passing horse’s gait | |
And so I slept | |
To suddenly awake | |
Alas | |
My love | |
Wilt thou kiss me goodbye | |
The lingering night | |
Will aid thee on thy travels | |
I’ll craft but one thing more | |
A crow to fly | |
Before t | |
T tell me how thy tale unravels | |
I say, thou art complete and free to go | |
What holds thee here save one who lives no longer | |
For I have given thee the life you know | |
The weaker I become | |
Thou art the stronger | |
And in your antique words your clear intent | |
Was that once thou art gone | |
I should dismay | |
Quothe thee | |
“Your thought mistook me | |
For I meant | |
To leave thee not | |
But offerest to stay | |
For true | |
I never did in my own realm | |
Partake of that pure love of which I told thee | |
But be my guide | |
And with me at the helm | |
And I shall in the cloak you wrought | |
Enfold thee | |
And journey to the ends | |
Of all the earth | |
For thou hast proved more generous and wise | |
Than all we faeries | |
Moons and stars are worth | |
For live we not | |
But living in your eyes” | |
Dear nameless knight | |
If thou would’st be mine own | |
And leave thy dragons for a while | |
Thou may’st | |
Find in these arms within which | |
Thou hast grown | |
A better reason than that which thou say’st | |
But with your hand you pointeth | |
Swear I so | |
And ‘tis not plain to me | |
Though I did draw it | |
Which way thou dost intend for us to go | |
Sure in the mind it is | |
Of she who saw it | |
Yet still perhaps | |
I made thee to discover | |
What one would do | |
If one were asked to choose | |
‘Tween back and forwards | |
Be thee friend | |
Or lover | |
Perhaps | |
You were to be | |
My favorite muse | |
Thou feel’st thy armor | |
Fight | |
But when you must | |
Thou see’st the blade of truth | |
Below thy knee | |
Use arrows against all | |
Whom you mistrust | |
But when thou ride’st my way | |
Aim one at me | |
Your world is yours | |
As ere it was before | |
Your time beneath my busy hand | |
Well spent | |
I’ve made a thing I love | |
I ask | |
No more | |
And never shall redeem the heart I lent | |
Me in my world | |
And thyself in thine | |
Two petals | |
On the same and silent flower | |
And evermore | |
I’ll welcome thee in mine | |
Your dear creation | |
Was my finest hour |
Alas | |
My love | |
If I could make you live | |
And from the page | |
Step forth and sit beside me | |
Or better still | |
Bestride the steed I gave you | |
Wrapped close within the cloak | |
I lent to hide thee | |
Perhaps I' d venture forth to ask thy name | |
Since while thou liest underneath my pen | |
That honour given | |
Which the poorest claim | |
Unjustly was withheld | |
But if again | |
I held thee captive | |
As I did ere now | |
Stalling to pass my fingers through the last | |
Of midnight tendrils | |
Or peruse thy brow | |
In fear of sending off what heaven cast | |
Too early | |
For my insufficient mind | |
To grasp the fullest detail | |
And retain | |
The presence | |
That your image left behind | |
That thou in all thy glory should remain | |
I fear my oversight | |
I would not mend | |
For now upon reflection | |
I confess | |
That secretly | |
I never did intend | |
With title long | |
Or surname rich | |
To bless | |
But rather | |
Let in my imagination | |
Run wild the thoughts of | |
Who perhaps you were | |
Before your soul | |
Demanded your creation | |
And deigned my mind | |
And willing heart to stir | |
For such a noble | |
And impassioned face | |
Could well be but | |
Newborn unto this sphere | |
But sure among a distant | |
Beauteous race | |
Thou hast known more than all who dwelleth here | |
And could tell much of places thou hast seen | |
And battles fought | |
For honours won and lost | |
And how each service | |
Done a faerie Queen | |
Becomes | |
A brighter jewel than it cost | |
The ladies of your world | |
You may impart | |
Desire to be neither | |
Overgraced | |
Nor underrepresented in the art | |
Of living | |
Where their lips were meant to taste | |
A sort of feline stealth | |
They wear about them | |
And while a flame of innocence they hold | |
In forests dark | |
You fear to be without them | |
For knights of maler kinds are ne' er so bold | |
Yes, in thy orb a maid may be a knight | |
Thou knew' st a friend would make upon this news | |
Without a whisper loud | |
Or censure slight | |
For lords are not afeared | |
Their stock to lose | |
Where no stock may be taken | |
Or be kept | |
No property be granted | |
Nor no bride | |
No maiden | |
May be stolen while she slept | |
Nor robbed of her freedom | |
To decide | |
What suits her best | |
No county' s law is needed | |
To cut the weed of violence from the stem | |
No danger for the law to go unheeded | |
For acts as these | |
Do not occur to them | |
The gentlemen you raise | |
Are rarer still | |
For in their eyes, as in the depths of thine | |
Such soft | |
And thrilling mysteries fulfill | |
The darkest corners of their heart' s design | |
Their arrows | |
Much like those I gave to thee | |
Could not but graze the flank of yonder cow | |
Without making him laugh | |
' Tis much to see | |
Them tickling their prey | |
I know not | |
How | |
They ever do | |
Encapture what they eat | |
Save that perhaps | |
Their bright unfettered brains | |
Have learned that | |
What grows underneath their feet | |
And in the trees above | |
Better sustains | |
A life | |
Intent on living well tomorrow | |
But how | |
I ask thee | |
Most endearing fiend | |
Do lords and ladies love | |
Where is no | |
Sorrow | |
No strife to overcome | |
No soul uncleaned | |
Of crushing ardor | |
Long worn out its stay | |
Betrothal to a mortal less divine | |
Than that who stole thy blushing breath away | |
No hot | |
Forbidden kisses for to pine | |
No heart affixed to age | |
Where heart is young | |
No ill intentioned suitors to evade? | |
" Still madam! | |
Would' st thou kindly hold thy tongue" | |
Thou sayest | |
" Your mistake has rash been made | |
In living long | |
In combat with your kind | |
Thou see' st no other obstacle but these | |
Thy hands are careworn | |
Yet to find | |
The hands that first should hold them | |
Yet to please the hierarchy | |
Which you serve unwitting | |
Thou dost believe that love in fighting grows | |
That happiness | |
In love | |
Is not befitting | |
But in thy sadness | |
Thou mak' st light of woes | |
For even were there ne' er a cloudy day | |
No tempest | |
To divide what love had bound | |
The galley | |
Which the moon holds in her sway | |
Could not but stir | |
The peace it finally found | |
The wound is deeper than the sea about thee | |
The stars upon my doublet | |
You have drawn | |
May light my homeward path | |
But how | |
Without me | |
Wilt thou escape the fate | |
Thou tremblest on?" | |
And in this way | |
And more my paper spoke | |
O, fierce, savage | |
Gentle beauty bright | |
Thou who I' ve given breath | |
My soul has broke | |
You had authority | |
But not the right | |
Could I but see the lips | |
That dare not breathe | |
They are so beautiful | |
And pressing sweet | |
Could I but touch the wings that underneath | |
Are made so soft | |
Thy heart forgets to beat | |
Perhaps I should have more | |
For which to strive | |
You came to my domain | |
And brought despair | |
For though I be the chastest heart alive | |
The realm you speak of | |
Will not take me there | |
Have you no pity? | |
Can' st thou not perceive | |
That I, a blinded beast | |
Had but the eyes | |
To see where I would love? | |
Dost thou believe | |
That ere you came | |
I was but vain disguise? | |
I know the murmur of music reveals | |
The things no human heart could comprehend | |
I render' st thou for all that torment feels | |
And longed to be thy lordship' s | |
Faithful friend | |
Yea, quiet as a mushroom | |
Did I wait | |
I willed to thee my form | |
To overtake | |
I shivered at each passing horse' s gait | |
And so I slept | |
To suddenly awake | |
Alas | |
My love | |
Wilt thou kiss me goodbye | |
The lingering night | |
Will aid thee on thy travels | |
I' ll craft but one thing more | |
A crow to fly | |
Before t | |
T tell me how thy tale unravels | |
I say, thou art complete and free to go | |
What holds thee here save one who lives no longer | |
For I have given thee the life you know | |
The weaker I become | |
Thou art the stronger | |
And in your antique words your clear intent | |
Was that once thou art gone | |
I should dismay | |
Quothe thee | |
" Your thought mistook me | |
For I meant | |
To leave thee not | |
But offerest to stay | |
For true | |
I never did in my own realm | |
Partake of that pure love of which I told thee | |
But be my guide | |
And with me at the helm | |
And I shall in the cloak you wrought | |
Enfold thee | |
And journey to the ends | |
Of all the earth | |
For thou hast proved more generous and wise | |
Than all we faeries | |
Moons and stars are worth | |
For live we not | |
But living in your eyes" | |
Dear nameless knight | |
If thou would' st be mine own | |
And leave thy dragons for a while | |
Thou may' st | |
Find in these arms within which | |
Thou hast grown | |
A better reason than that which thou say' st | |
But with your hand you pointeth | |
Swear I so | |
And ' tis not plain to me | |
Though I did draw it | |
Which way thou dost intend for us to go | |
Sure in the mind it is | |
Of she who saw it | |
Yet still perhaps | |
I made thee to discover | |
What one would do | |
If one were asked to choose | |
' Tween back and forwards | |
Be thee friend | |
Or lover | |
Perhaps | |
You were to be | |
My favorite muse | |
Thou feel' st thy armor | |
Fight | |
But when you must | |
Thou see' st the blade of truth | |
Below thy knee | |
Use arrows against all | |
Whom you mistrust | |
But when thou ride' st my way | |
Aim one at me | |
Your world is yours | |
As ere it was before | |
Your time beneath my busy hand | |
Well spent | |
I' ve made a thing I love | |
I ask | |
No more | |
And never shall redeem the heart I lent | |
Me in my world | |
And thyself in thine | |
Two petals | |
On the same and silent flower | |
And evermore | |
I' ll welcome thee in mine | |
Your dear creation | |
Was my finest hour |
Alas | |
My love | |
If I could make you live | |
And from the page | |
Step forth and sit beside me | |
Or better still | |
Bestride the steed I gave you | |
Wrapped close within the cloak | |
I lent to hide thee | |
Perhaps I' d venture forth to ask thy name | |
Since while thou liest underneath my pen | |
That honour given | |
Which the poorest claim | |
Unjustly was withheld | |
But if again | |
I held thee captive | |
As I did ere now | |
Stalling to pass my fingers through the last | |
Of midnight tendrils | |
Or peruse thy brow | |
In fear of sending off what heaven cast | |
Too early | |
For my insufficient mind | |
To grasp the fullest detail | |
And retain | |
The presence | |
That your image left behind | |
That thou in all thy glory should remain | |
I fear my oversight | |
I would not mend | |
For now upon reflection | |
I confess | |
That secretly | |
I never did intend | |
With title long | |
Or surname rich | |
To bless | |
But rather | |
Let in my imagination | |
Run wild the thoughts of | |
Who perhaps you were | |
Before your soul | |
Demanded your creation | |
And deigned my mind | |
And willing heart to stir | |
For such a noble | |
And impassioned face | |
Could well be but | |
Newborn unto this sphere | |
But sure among a distant | |
Beauteous race | |
Thou hast known more than all who dwelleth here | |
And could tell much of places thou hast seen | |
And battles fought | |
For honours won and lost | |
And how each service | |
Done a faerie Queen | |
Becomes | |
A brighter jewel than it cost | |
The ladies of your world | |
You may impart | |
Desire to be neither | |
Overgraced | |
Nor underrepresented in the art | |
Of living | |
Where their lips were meant to taste | |
A sort of feline stealth | |
They wear about them | |
And while a flame of innocence they hold | |
In forests dark | |
You fear to be without them | |
For knights of maler kinds are ne' er so bold | |
Yes, in thy orb a maid may be a knight | |
Thou knew' st a friend would make upon this news | |
Without a whisper loud | |
Or censure slight | |
For lords are not afeared | |
Their stock to lose | |
Where no stock may be taken | |
Or be kept | |
No property be granted | |
Nor no bride | |
No maiden | |
May be stolen while she slept | |
Nor robbed of her freedom | |
To decide | |
What suits her best | |
No county' s law is needed | |
To cut the weed of violence from the stem | |
No danger for the law to go unheeded | |
For acts as these | |
Do not occur to them | |
The gentlemen you raise | |
Are rarer still | |
For in their eyes, as in the depths of thine | |
Such soft | |
And thrilling mysteries fulfill | |
The darkest corners of their heart' s design | |
Their arrows | |
Much like those I gave to thee | |
Could not but graze the flank of yonder cow | |
Without making him laugh | |
' Tis much to see | |
Them tickling their prey | |
I know not | |
How | |
They ever do | |
Encapture what they eat | |
Save that perhaps | |
Their bright unfettered brains | |
Have learned that | |
What grows underneath their feet | |
And in the trees above | |
Better sustains | |
A life | |
Intent on living well tomorrow | |
But how | |
I ask thee | |
Most endearing fiend | |
Do lords and ladies love | |
Where is no | |
Sorrow | |
No strife to overcome | |
No soul uncleaned | |
Of crushing ardor | |
Long worn out its stay | |
Betrothal to a mortal less divine | |
Than that who stole thy blushing breath away | |
No hot | |
Forbidden kisses for to pine | |
No heart affixed to age | |
Where heart is young | |
No ill intentioned suitors to evade? | |
" Still madam! | |
Would' st thou kindly hold thy tongue" | |
Thou sayest | |
" Your mistake has rash been made | |
In living long | |
In combat with your kind | |
Thou see' st no other obstacle but these | |
Thy hands are careworn | |
Yet to find | |
The hands that first should hold them | |
Yet to please the hierarchy | |
Which you serve unwitting | |
Thou dost believe that love in fighting grows | |
That happiness | |
In love | |
Is not befitting | |
But in thy sadness | |
Thou mak' st light of woes | |
For even were there ne' er a cloudy day | |
No tempest | |
To divide what love had bound | |
The galley | |
Which the moon holds in her sway | |
Could not but stir | |
The peace it finally found | |
The wound is deeper than the sea about thee | |
The stars upon my doublet | |
You have drawn | |
May light my homeward path | |
But how | |
Without me | |
Wilt thou escape the fate | |
Thou tremblest on?" | |
And in this way | |
And more my paper spoke | |
O, fierce, savage | |
Gentle beauty bright | |
Thou who I' ve given breath | |
My soul has broke | |
You had authority | |
But not the right | |
Could I but see the lips | |
That dare not breathe | |
They are so beautiful | |
And pressing sweet | |
Could I but touch the wings that underneath | |
Are made so soft | |
Thy heart forgets to beat | |
Perhaps I should have more | |
For which to strive | |
You came to my domain | |
And brought despair | |
For though I be the chastest heart alive | |
The realm you speak of | |
Will not take me there | |
Have you no pity? | |
Can' st thou not perceive | |
That I, a blinded beast | |
Had but the eyes | |
To see where I would love? | |
Dost thou believe | |
That ere you came | |
I was but vain disguise? | |
I know the murmur of music reveals | |
The things no human heart could comprehend | |
I render' st thou for all that torment feels | |
And longed to be thy lordship' s | |
Faithful friend | |
Yea, quiet as a mushroom | |
Did I wait | |
I willed to thee my form | |
To overtake | |
I shivered at each passing horse' s gait | |
And so I slept | |
To suddenly awake | |
Alas | |
My love | |
Wilt thou kiss me goodbye | |
The lingering night | |
Will aid thee on thy travels | |
I' ll craft but one thing more | |
A crow to fly | |
Before t | |
T tell me how thy tale unravels | |
I say, thou art complete and free to go | |
What holds thee here save one who lives no longer | |
For I have given thee the life you know | |
The weaker I become | |
Thou art the stronger | |
And in your antique words your clear intent | |
Was that once thou art gone | |
I should dismay | |
Quothe thee | |
" Your thought mistook me | |
For I meant | |
To leave thee not | |
But offerest to stay | |
For true | |
I never did in my own realm | |
Partake of that pure love of which I told thee | |
But be my guide | |
And with me at the helm | |
And I shall in the cloak you wrought | |
Enfold thee | |
And journey to the ends | |
Of all the earth | |
For thou hast proved more generous and wise | |
Than all we faeries | |
Moons and stars are worth | |
For live we not | |
But living in your eyes" | |
Dear nameless knight | |
If thou would' st be mine own | |
And leave thy dragons for a while | |
Thou may' st | |
Find in these arms within which | |
Thou hast grown | |
A better reason than that which thou say' st | |
But with your hand you pointeth | |
Swear I so | |
And ' tis not plain to me | |
Though I did draw it | |
Which way thou dost intend for us to go | |
Sure in the mind it is | |
Of she who saw it | |
Yet still perhaps | |
I made thee to discover | |
What one would do | |
If one were asked to choose | |
' Tween back and forwards | |
Be thee friend | |
Or lover | |
Perhaps | |
You were to be | |
My favorite muse | |
Thou feel' st thy armor | |
Fight | |
But when you must | |
Thou see' st the blade of truth | |
Below thy knee | |
Use arrows against all | |
Whom you mistrust | |
But when thou ride' st my way | |
Aim one at me | |
Your world is yours | |
As ere it was before | |
Your time beneath my busy hand | |
Well spent | |
I' ve made a thing I love | |
I ask | |
No more | |
And never shall redeem the heart I lent | |
Me in my world | |
And thyself in thine | |
Two petals | |
On the same and silent flower | |
And evermore | |
I' ll welcome thee in mine | |
Your dear creation | |
Was my finest hour |