| [On a late night in the spring of 1827
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| The city of Vienna is experiencing the largest lightning storm in its long
|
| history
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| Within a large disheveled room
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| Ludwig Von Beethoven is slumped over his piano
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| And on the piano sits the just completed manuscript for his tenth symphony
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| It is his final, and he is certain, his greatest work.]
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| Since the time when ra and isis
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| Raised the sphinx out of the sand
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| And apollo dreamed athena
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| And men began to understand
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| That when darkness folds on darkness
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| In the restless tides of night
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| And lightning raises shadows
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| And for moments gives them life
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| It’s been said by those who ponder
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| That it surely is a sign
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| That a life touched by the stars
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| Is now running out of time
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| And that somewhere in that darkness
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| In the heart of that great storm
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| The world returns a soul
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| That the gods caused to be born
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| And this was such a storm
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| The kind one rarely sees in life
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| For in a room now filled with shadows
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| The great Beethoven was spending
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| His last night
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| [From the shadows a beautiful spirit, fate
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| And her deformed dwarf son, twist
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| Emerge to inform Beethoven of what he has already deeply suspected
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| That this is to be his last night on earth
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| They are accompanied by numerous spirits and ghosts from his past.] |