The Mistress Of Dark Art

from Sleep Paralysis by Tragedy In Hope

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    Tragedy In Hope logo artwork done by Alexander Moroz and designed by Aleh Zielankievič.
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The first one in a creative spree
Was swallowed by deep gloom.
Erotic, wild fantasies
In the poorly lit bathroom.

Scarlet strips on frail wrists
Were bleeding more and more
Before she fell on the dirty floor
Dead, forlorn, alone.

Graceful lines on dismal pictures
Screamed about wet, secret wishes.
Naked girls and razor blades,
Scenes of her dramatic fate.

The beauty of submissive postures,
Painting was the pleasant torture,
Scattered, elegant costumes,
Sweet and bare mannequins.

Brushes turned to dust,
Because of a hungry, burning lust
And absence of a shy blush.

Fading, silky shine
Of the silent, brown eyes
Was a sorrowful and ghastly sign
Of her lamentable demise.

No! That day she died.

But the legacy of thousands pictures will live in people's hearts.
Devoured by eternity as the Mistress of dark art.

The second one was fooled
By entrancing sounds of vile strings,
Which played on her soul's wounds.

Woven in deep corners of her perverted mind
Magnificent, dark music aroused a wish to fly.

Bewitching melodies
Lured her at the window ledge.
Cellos, violins
Shaped the imaginary stage.
The final, desperate steps
Led her towards the tragic end.
Strings played notes of farewell
And then... and then she fell.

Moist air streams
Were pinching the pale, tired face
As if it was a dream.
The fragile body met its grievous fate,
But the music, she wrote, will never die,
And thus she stayed alive.

The third one was obsessed by lofty poetry,
But something was amiss.
A felling of the slowly growing agony
Troubled the young Miss.

A secret, guilty pleasure
Was strangling with a rope.
Will her life be fleeting,
As fleeting as her hope?

The mysterious magic of her words –
To create depressive, charming worlds,
Poured in ears like a deadly spell,
It turned her life into hell.

Sentences, entwined in serpentines,
Besotted her like sour wine.
Sheets of paper were decayed,
It was the death embrace.

In the darkest hour,
She couldn't bear grievous thoughts.
It killed the gentle flower.
Without any tears and agonizing fears,
She wrote the fateful, poignant lines
And tied the rope tight.

She was so awfully tired
From lousy books, from phony looks
And histrionic desires,
But it was in vain,
Because her dear pain
Became a home for those who felt
The same, who wanted to cut a thread

Of their dreary lives,
Who wanted to stop crying every lonely night,
For those who wanted to learn a sincere smile,
To rejoice at seeing the first rays of sunrise.

Trapped in their own heads
They couldn't either hide or run away.

There are many others.
Believe me, this is true.
For there never were stories of more woe
Than of the artists who were doomed.


from Sleep Paralysis, released February 12, 2021
Music by Daria Cheplakova and Sasha Giller.
Lyrics by Sasha Giller.
Mixing, mastering and producing Vladimir Lehtinen.
Guitars and vocals by Sasha Giller.
Drums by Alexander Dovgan’.
The artwork by Alexander Moroz.

Daria Cheplakova as guest songwriter for this song in co-writing with Sasha Giller.
Female vocal by Elizaveta Belokoz.


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Tragedy In Hope Saint Petersburg, Russia

If the culture of new sincerity sounded like black metal, it would sound like Tragedy In Hope.

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