Ilúvatar’s had the Ainur sing
He had no idea… the pain it would bring
One named Melkor turned the tides around
And all middle earth seemed hellbound
Their lives are the Tragedie
The bitter and the sweet dwell together in Historie
Like two lost children under a tree!
Some Ainur came down to mortal world
To be their when the light Aman was unfurled
But alas! Melkor followed them down
He's the pebble in an otherwise perfect crown
What the Valar did he swiftly would rend
And be ready to destroy again ere they could mend
Their Lives Are The Tragedie
The Bitter And The Sweet Dwell Together In Historie
Like Two Lost Children Under A Tree
And so it came about that Ilúvatar’s first born came
They came to late… it wasn't the same
The demon Melkor lurked there
Whose Jealousy burned against children so fair
Some he led from the light filled way
He perverted them and led them astray
But Mercy be thanked these were only a few
And this the Valar full well knew
So at present they came to lead them away
Some loved the lands and decided to stay
And so a great host came to the land of their guides
But still some came to love the sea and it's tides
So elven folk came safely through
Yet woe exists in forms that we call old and new
Their Lives Are The Tragedie
The Bitter And The Sweet Dwell Together In Historie
Like Two Lost Children Under A Tree
There was one called Fëanor of the elven folk
In many a tale and song , many a time of him they spoke
He was powerful, gifted and proud
O thou...Pride! Ye are his shroud!
He created the lovely silmaril balls
But many a great after much glory falls
And comes to live in Mandos' Halls
Their Lives Are The Tragedie
The Bitter And The Sweet Dwell Together In Historie
Like Two Lost Children Under A Tree
So Fëanor was twisted by Melkor's lies
He goes and threatens his own kin and the Valar defies
But Alas for him!
Yes my friends… pride is sin
In the end he lost his pretty little balls, for his father the first bell did toll
He lost it all...even his soul
Oh yes my friends… our lives are like a burning coal
You stoke it… there is a flame
But if not it burns out under misery, woe and shame
Their Lives Are The Tragedie!
The Bitter And The Sweet Dwell Together In Historie!
Like Two Lost Children Under That Sad Tree!
So later Men were born
The Lesser Ones… the object of scorn
But their just as fragile
After a time their hearts get tired and decide to stay still
The elven folk...their heart bound in a mighty chain
Until their haunted wanting spirits haunt the lane
O sorrow, we're all so weak...each a delicate thing
So easy to break a helpless heart string!
Of this tale I can speak no more…
That Time again will come nevermore
But they and us shall all ride on an eternal ship……
for good or evil……
forevermore
