Текст песни The Fall Of The House Of Usher: Prelude

Shadows of shadows passing It is now 1831, and as always I am absorbed with a delicate thought It is how poetry has indefinite sensations, to which end music is inessential Since the comprehension of sweet sound is our most indefinite conception Music, when combined with a pleasurable idea, is poetry Music without the idea is simply music Without music or an intriguing idea, colour becomes pallor, man becomes carcase Home becomes catacomb, and the dead are but for a moment motionless