Dark whimsical gothic waltz, 92 BPM, 3/4 time, minor key. Elegant, macabre, dreamy and strangely cheerful rather than mournful. Soft mature female mezzo/contralto with a quiet, slightly mischievous delivery, as though she finds death genuinely fascinating and beautiful. Waltzing piano, plucked cello, sweeping strings, delicate music-box, celesta, subtle harpsichord, distant church bells and occasional airy female harmonies. Victorian funeral-parlor atmosphere mixed with moonlit graveyard fantasy: black lace, old headstones, blue lantern flames, pressed flowers, moths and butterflies. Verses intimate and curious; chorus blooms into a graceful sweeping waltz. Bridge becomes sparse, eerie and inquisitive before returning to the dance. Beautifully morbid, romantic, eccentric and enchanting—not horror, not tragic, no heavy rock or metal.
4:31
Dark whimsical gothic waltz, 92 BPM, 3/4 time, minor key. Elegant, macabre, dreamy and strangely cheerful rather than mournful. Soft mature female mezzo/contralto with a quiet, slightly mischievous delivery, as though she finds death genuinely fascinating and beautiful. Waltzing piano, plucked cello, sweeping strings, delicate music-box, celesta, subtle harpsichord, distant church bells and occasional airy female harmonies. Victorian funeral-parlor atmosphere mixed with moonlit graveyard fantasy: black lace, old headstones, blue lantern flames, pressed flowers, moths and butterflies. Verses intimate and curious; chorus blooms into a graceful sweeping waltz. Bridge becomes sparse, eerie and inquisitive before returning to the dance. Beautifully morbid, romantic, eccentric and enchanting—not horror, not tragic, no heavy rock or metal.
4:15
Policy version: pending
Prompt:
[Verse I] There’s ivy growing through the stone, a name the rain has nearly worn. I wonder if they died alone, or someone stayed until the morn. A butterfly upon the grave, black velvet wings against the white. I think I’ll sit with you awhile— I’ve nowhere better for the night. [Pre-Chorus] They say I ought to fear this place, the silence underneath the trees. But nothing here has ever lied, and nothing dead has ever left me. [Chorus] What a lovely place to die, beneath a silver, starless sky. Black lace tangled in the roses, little lantern burning blue. If the earth should learn my name, if someday I become the same, leave the window open slightly— I’d like the butterflies to wander through. [Verse II] I’ve filled my books with funeral rites, with epitaphs and final prayers. I know which bells belong to whom, which flowers mean somebody cared. Sometimes I wonder what I’ll leave— a veil, a book, a little flame? Perhaps some girl will find my stone and wonder how I got my name. [Chorus] What a lovely place to die, beneath a silver, starless sky. Black lace tangled in the roses, little lantern burning blue. If the earth should learn my name, if someday I become the same, leave the window open slightly— I’d like the butterflies to wander through. [Bridge — quieter, almost amused] Everyone asks what happens next. I ask what happens just before. Does the room become much quieter? Does someone knock upon the door? Does the final breath feel different? Does the body understand? Or do you simply close your eyes… and find a lantern in your hand? [Final Chorus] What a lovely place to die, beneath a silver, starless sky. No great monument above me, only wildflowers breaking through. And if someone finds me sleeping, don’t disturb the things that bloom. Leave the window open slightly— I’d like the butterflies to wander through.