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Murder in Art
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Le Acteur de la Mort
I'm doomed to play
This eternal role
In these cold, stormy nights
I whine my lonely lines
Broken seats and cracked walls
Wind and leaves my applause
When big curtains fall
I play my greatest role again
How sharper than a serpents tooth
It is to have a thankless child
Who poisoned me before my first-night audience
Now I'm only a poor, lonely ghost
Prisoner of this horrifying role
But how noble it is to serve art
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Even after death
And when the halftime comes
I creep down the stairs to
Watch old pictures of those
Forgotten days, long gone fame
Oh, how bitter a thing
It is to look into happiness
Through another man's eyes
I'm the ghost of forgotten theater
Diva of a shadowland
I'm the ghost of forgotten theater
Le Acteur De La Mort
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