A shadow hung on the wall by the light of tallow
Dark figures come for me
The devil claims my soul
Join me in this death knell
Sing with me my friends
The ballad of Branwell
On the highest heath
Or the lowest ebb
In the house of God
Or the chambers of sin
I find my pleasures there, a beautiful high I'll never share
The lines I draw begin to blur, prose dribbles from my tongue
Choirs won't sing this time
Weight of sin clouds the mind
Join me in this death knell
Sing with me my friends
The ballad of Branwell
On the highest heath
Or the lowest ebb
In the house of God
Or the chambers of sin
I find no pleasures there
A wretched end, my soul devils fare
My father's prayers in vain
Man of the cloth stricken down
Beneath these linen sheets, in blessed misery I'll surely drown
Blessed Misery Video (MV)
Miseria Visage - Blessed Misery Lyrics
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English
A shadow hung on the wall by the light of tallow
Dark figures come for me
The devil claims my soul
Join me in this death knell
Sing with me my friends
The ballad of Branwell
On the highest heath
Or the lowest ebb
In the house of God
Or the chambers of sin
I find my pleasures there, a beautiful high I'll never share
The lines I draw begin to blur, prose dribbles from my tongue
Choirs won't sing this time
Weight of sin clouds the mind
Join me in this death knell
Sing with me my friends
The ballad of Branwell
On the highest heath
Or the lowest ebb
In the house of God
Or the chambers of sin
I find no pleasures there
A wretched end, my soul devils fare
My father's prayers in vain
Man of the cloth stricken down
Beneath these linen sheets, in blessed misery I'll surely drown
Dark figures come for me
The devil claims my soul
Join me in this death knell
Sing with me my friends
The ballad of Branwell
On the highest heath
Or the lowest ebb
In the house of God
Or the chambers of sin
I find my pleasures there, a beautiful high I'll never share
The lines I draw begin to blur, prose dribbles from my tongue
Choirs won't sing this time
Weight of sin clouds the mind
Join me in this death knell
Sing with me my friends
The ballad of Branwell
On the highest heath
Or the lowest ebb
In the house of God
Or the chambers of sin
I find no pleasures there
A wretched end, my soul devils fare
My father's prayers in vain
Man of the cloth stricken down
Beneath these linen sheets, in blessed misery I'll surely drown
Writer: James Andrew
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid