Sonata of Horrors
A hoard of zombies’ marionettes
Advent on the stage
Hurry up and get to your post drummer boy
The curtain is about to open on the
Sonata of Horrors.
This is one performance
That you shall not want to miss.
Go drummer boy with your mallet in hand
To fight off your enemies on stage left.
(The whole world is watching)
Flutter away Marionettes of Death
You are an unwelcome guests in the Hall of Saints.
Even Beethoven without his moonlight
On this dark night
Is not permitted welcome.
So go strum your tune somewhere else,
Your pitch is monotone
And the angels are full of themselves
Infatuated with they’re own trance.
A battle to the end will inevitably ensue
How much blood will be spilt in this concert hall?
But this is all just an act, a ruse.
Though the blood is real the instruments are not.
And so the curtain falls on yet another war.
Yet another Sonata of Horrors.
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