Текст песни Devil in the White City (The Existential Gentlemen) с переводом

When I was but a lad

Back in the year of 1890 and three

There was a man who took the stage

And set the front page on fire

Perhaps we should have known

The look he gave that poor widow

Once, such a long time ago

With a gleam in his eye

And a tip of his hat

Just imagine for a moment

The scene forlorn and hopeless

A baleful black mass of

medieval torture trappings

suffice, it could not be believed

Blood Death and Magic

A story rather tragic

It’s a nightmare, a fright fair

The Devil’s such a debonair

He cured the fever

with rags soaked in ether

And prayers to the deceiver

Where did we go wrong?

There has to be some kind

Of deviance inside his heart

To have fallen so far

With evidence we’ll know we’re right

With evidence we know we’re right, oh yeah!

Defiant to the last

In supplication to powers that be

A calvacade, a masquerade

This man is not to be believed

We’ve seen the bones despite the prose

That flows like bile from this

Monster of west 63rd

He’s a myth, what a fiend

Here’s the facts that we’ve gleaned

From the combing of a castle

The torture doctor master

Devoid and defiled by the demons he provided

Shall swing from the end of a rope

Blood Death and Magic

A story rather tragic

It’s a nightmare, a fright fair

The Devil’s such a debonair

He cured the fever

with rags soaked in ether

And prayers to the deceiver

And in these silent streets

Eternity becomes us

For even though he’s gone

The atmosphere’s all wrong

As we sidle along

And the band still plays

Perhaps our human nature

Will have the rest of us repeating his ways

Do you believe in the sun when it’s gone?

I defy you to remain the same

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