Good-night, sweet prince
Christendom mourns its Saviour;
I mourn mine.
Upon the 72nd anniversary of Conrad Veidt's death
No, you are not gone,
And certainly not forgotten,
Dark prince of the shadowplay.
He may be gone but we have the negative,
We have the imprint,
The ghostly pale hand reaching out,
The thin figure trembling in its damnation,
The soft, silent gait of the panther.
We have the records, we have the articles,
The "Jew" scrawled over Nazi forms,
We know of the gentle and brave heart
Fearless in its championing of humanity.
No, you are not gone,
And certainly not forgotten,
Dark prince of the shadowplay.
We have more than just memories, photographs;
We have a hundred different men
All beautiful,
All crackling with power,
All masterworks of but one soul.
All of these plucked out of the aether,
All of these honed and shaped with exquisite skill,
Offered for us to frighten,
To seduce,
To break our hearts.
No, you are not gone,
And certainly not forgotten,
Dark prince of the shadowplay.
Still, you tighten the chest of the one who watches you weep,
Still, you terrify as you curl your hand around a woman's throat,
Still, you inspire a thousand erotic dreams with but a wicked glance.
Still, you delight as the ruthless demon,
Still, you awaken pity as the man broken and tortured,
Still, your saints silence one in awe.
No, you are not gone,
And certainly not forgotten,
Dark prince of the shadowplay.
I mourn mine.
Upon the 72nd anniversary of Conrad Veidt's death
No, you are not gone,
And certainly not forgotten,
Dark prince of the shadowplay.
He may be gone but we have the negative,
We have the imprint,
The ghostly pale hand reaching out,
The thin figure trembling in its damnation,
The soft, silent gait of the panther.
We have the records, we have the articles,
The "Jew" scrawled over Nazi forms,
We know of the gentle and brave heart
Fearless in its championing of humanity.
No, you are not gone,
And certainly not forgotten,
Dark prince of the shadowplay.
We have more than just memories, photographs;
We have a hundred different men
All beautiful,
All crackling with power,
All masterworks of but one soul.
All of these plucked out of the aether,
All of these honed and shaped with exquisite skill,
Offered for us to frighten,
To seduce,
To break our hearts.
No, you are not gone,
And certainly not forgotten,
Dark prince of the shadowplay.
Still, you tighten the chest of the one who watches you weep,
Still, you terrify as you curl your hand around a woman's throat,
Still, you inspire a thousand erotic dreams with but a wicked glance.
Still, you delight as the ruthless demon,
Still, you awaken pity as the man broken and tortured,
Still, your saints silence one in awe.
No, you are not gone,
And certainly not forgotten,
Dark prince of the shadowplay.