Requiem for the Lost Song
{MALE VOCAL} Dark theatrical gothic rock opera in the style of Devil Doll and Mr. Doctor. Dramatic male vocal: from whispered lament to four-octave screams. Include pipe organ, full symphonic orchestra, harpsichord, eerie soprano counter-voices, sudden heavy metal guitar bursts, thunderous drums and Gregorian chants. Structure: intro with pipe organ, then verses and powerful repeating chorus “Echoes bleed—music dies…”. Insert instrumental interludes with chaotic metal riffs and sudden operatic passages. End with a massive crescendo fading to a single haunting flute note. Atmosphere: apocalyptic, grand, mysterious and spine-chilling.
Requiem for the Lost Song
{MALE VOCAL} Dark theatrical gothic rock opera in the style of Devil Doll and Mr. Doctor. Dramatic male vocal: from whispered lament to four-octave screams. Include pipe organ, full symphonic orchestra, harpsichord, eerie soprano counter-voices, sudden heavy metal guitar bursts, thunderous drums and Gregorian chants. Structure: intro with pipe organ, then verses and powerful repeating chorus “Echoes bleed—music dies…”. Insert instrumental interludes with chaotic metal riffs and sudden operatic passages. End with a massive crescendo fading to a single haunting flute note. Atmosphere: apocalyptic, grand, mysterious and spine-chilling.
Lyrics
In cathedrals of sound where the echo falls like dust,
cellos hush their breathing, violins dream of rust.
The metronome has frozen - silence cuts like stone,
and in the ash of notes lie the names of songs we’ve known.
Chorus
Echoes bleed - music dies,
in the marketplace of lies.
Sing, you ghosts of ancient fire,
till our hearts ignite the choir.
Commerce burned the choirs, the market quenched the fire’s glow,
true song is shackled in the chains where digital tempests blow.
Fool’s gold shines brightly, yet inside it rings so thin,
while the hearts of ancient masters pound against dead wind.
Echoes bleed - music dies,
in the marketplace of lies.
Sing, you ghosts of ancient fire,
till our hearts ignite the choir.
See the score ignite in silence, ash ascends like a veil,
every melody that once embraced the soul now pales.
Grand orchestras crumble, choirs fade into the night,
and only echoes of old arias carry their last light.
Echoes bleed-music dies,
in the marketplace of lies.
Sing, you ghosts of ancient fire,
till our hearts ignite the choir.
Here lies harmony’s tomb, marble-cold and still,
where Bach’s eternal dwelling meets the market’s will.
Let frost speak through the drum, let sorrow thunder in the choir,
for true music has perished beneath our own desire.
Echoes bleed - music dies,
in the marketplace of lies.
Sing, you ghosts of ancient fire,
till our hearts ignite the choir.
Yet from the silence rises rage, a bell inside the vein,
and in the dark the violins tremble, yearning to breathe again.
Let every scream and whisper forge one infernal hymn,
so music, though entombed, may live once more within.
Echoes bleed - music dies,
in the marketplace of lies.
Sing, you ghosts of ancient fire,
till our hearts ignite the choir.