[Intro — жуткая музыкальная шкатулка, слегка расстроенная; из глубины всплывает pipe organ; литавры как медленное сердцебиение; далёкий готический хор] [Verse 1 — He (The Collector), deep dramatic baritone, theatrical] In the velvet dark where the curtains fall, I watch you walk down my echoing hall. I measure your breath, I trace your spine, I turn your freedom into my design. [Low cello groan, pipe organ swells] No echo escapes me, no shadow can flee, I am the Architect — and you are the key. [Verse 2 — She (The Muse), haunting operatic soprano, as if behind glass] Behind the glass I breathe in white, A painted smile, a borrowed light. He calls me muse, he calls me art — But marble veins around my heart. [Pre-Chorus — duet interweaving, timpani builds] (He) Just a nod, just a smile, and the iron locks tight… (She) Just a breath, just a tear, and I fade from the light… (Both) The pendulum swings — and it swallows the night! [Chorus — full symphonic gothic metal: heavy guitars, pipe organ, gothic choir, duet] (He) Are you my quiet muse? Frozen and numb? (She) I play your quiet muse — till the dawn has come. (Both) Skin made of marble, eyes made of stone, In the gallery of shadows I stand alone. (He) Perfect creation, don't make a sound… (She) One crack in the marble — and I burn it all down! [Verse 3 — He, baritone darkening] I sand down your edges, I paint over scars, I don't want your soul — I just want the stars. Posed on a pedestal, dressed in white lace, My beautiful prisoner, my silent grace. [Mechanical grinding morphs into orchestral hits] [Verse 4 — She, soprano rising] You love the reflection, you never loved me, You worship the cage and you swallow the key. But deep in the marble a heartbeat still sings — And stone remembers the sound of its wings. [Bridge — everything stops; only music box and whispered dialogue] (He, whispered, close) Pose… Smile… Hold your breath. (She, whispered, closer) Don't move… Or it's death. (He) Mine… Mine… Forever mine… (She, suddenly full operatic power, coloratura soaring over screaming guitars) SHATTER THE GLASS! TEAR OFF THE WIRE! BURN DOWN THE GALLERY — FEED ME THE FIRE! [Final Chorus — maximum: gothic choir, timpani, both voices soaring] (She) I was your quiet muse — frozen and numb! (He) You were my quiet muse — look what you've become! (Both) Skin made of marble, eyes made of stone — The gallery of shadows cracks down to the bone! (She) Perfect creation — I make my own sound! (Both) The crack in the marble — the fire unbound! [Outro — music box returns, a gear slips; pipe organ fades; silence] (He, fading, broken) Goodnight, quiet muse… sleep now… perfectly… still. [One high soprano note, like light through cracked glass] (She, whispered, alive, from far away) …Still. [A single crack of glass; end]
