I sit upon my throne,
Playing my violin alone,
Such sweet sorrow, I've never thought of play,
In silence I play, without a ply

How bitter a soul, how tender a sound!
Serenity in my soul has now been found!
A lulling dream, laced in despair,
From a fearsome dark soul's own nightmare

Trapped forever, in darkened fire,
Without hope of flying any higher,
In tainted wings, I hide in sin,
With my beloved violin

The notes float desperately to the Heavens above,
Daemonic grace, a monstrous love,
Who knew I could cherish her like so?
Decadence of sound from soul of hell below

Hearing the echo's of my own sound, I recall,
The tragic day when the angel did fall,
A tear proclaims great lament within,
To separate Oneself from Their beloved kin

A noxious moment, a wretched breath,
As I listen to the sonata of my own death,
A beautiful plague infests both ears,
Upon every note that beckons

Lo and behold, a great polyphony of strings!
Enough to rip me apart with sadness,
The sounds now bind me, like horrid chains,
And you may feel the soul's pains

It is difficult to know how a soul so infernal,
Could produce such beautiful music, eternal,
Perhaps I have never lost my heart,
to produce such wondrous works of art

Look to the sky, and embrace the rain,
Listen to my eternal disdain,
See past the fire and the burning coals,
And help me to free the withered soul