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Trans-Siberian Orchestra( Trans Siberian Orchestra )
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Memphistopheles - Narration
Beethoven then begged For these shadows to take their leave That they had no business being there But the shadows, they disagreed
For no matter how Beethoven implored For these shadows to leave him alone They chattered on and would not be gone From his one-man catacomb
Then Twist explained how it was That they could not do as the composer wished For since they were his shadows It was only by his light they could exist
And as Beethoven's life was fading On this, his final night It was only natural that these shadows Should cling closer to his fading light
Now, meanwhile, the clock, it just ticked on As clocks are known to do For time's their only purpose Their only point of view
But when that clock struck midnight Its chimes both loud and clear From out of those shifting shadows A final figure did appear
His voice, it had a certain charm That concealed all his disease As he introduced himself to them As thee, Mephistopheles
He said he had come to collect The Great Beethoven's soul He said it wasn't much, you see 'Merely, a lump of coal'
Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com 'You look surprised, my dear composer This simple fact to learn But before tomorrow morning Together, we will watch it burn'
Beethoven stepped back in horror 'This thing cannot be true! I have done no great wrongs in life At least none that I knew'
'Men quite often forget their sins' The Devil did reply 'Until it's too late to repent, Forgetting it's never too late to die It's part of human nature Upon which I've come strongly, to rely
Men quite often forget their sins For redemption can always wait And I always allow this to happen It's an important part of my bait For by the time they remember It always tends to be…too late
Now, you may think your sins are minor To enter Hell, they're not enough Well, a cruel act, a rude word there Believe me, they add up
And rising from the shadows Is the specter of your death For since your birth he has been owed And now is here to clear the debt But perhaps we can talk a little while For you are not dead…not yet'
The cloaked figure of death rises from the floor. He offers Beethoven a bony hand. The composer backs away in terror as Mephistopheles sympathetically offers advice.
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