Beethoven then begged
For these shadows to take their leave
That they had no business being there
But the shadows, they disagreed
For no matter how Beethoven implored
For these shadows to leave him alone
They chattered on and would not be gone
From his one-man catacomb
Then Twist explained how it was
That they could not do as the composer wished
For since they were his shadows
It was only by his light they could exist
And as Beethoven's life was fading
On this, his final night
It was only natural that these shadows
Should cling closer to his fading light
Now, meanwhile, the clock, it just ticked on
As clocks are known to do
For time's their only purpose
Their only point of view
But when that clock struck midnight
Its chimes both loud and clear
From out of those shifting shadows
A final figure did appear
His voice, it had a certain charm
That concealed all his disease
As he introduced himself to them
As thee, Mephistopheles
He said he had come to collect
The Great Beethoven's soul
He said it wasn't much, you see
"Merely, a lump of coal"
"You look surprised, my dear composer
This simple fact to learn
But before tomorrow morning
Together, we will watch it burn"
Beethoven stepped back in horror
"This thing cannot be true!
I have done no great wrongs in life
At least none that I knew"
"Men quite often forget their sins"
The Devil did reply
"Until it's too late to repent,
Forgetting it's never too late to die
It's part of human nature
Upon which I've come strongly, to rely
Men quite often forget their sins
For redemption can always wait
And I always allow this to happen
It's an important part of my bait
For by the time they remember
It always tends to be...too late
Now, you may think your sins are minor
To enter Hell, they're not enough
Well, a cruel act, a rude word there
Believe me, they add up
And rising from the shadows
Is the specter of your death
For since your birth he has been owed
And now is here to clear the debt
But perhaps we can talk a little while
For you are not dead...not yet"
The cloaked figure of death rises from the floor. He offers Beethoven a bony hand. The composer backs away in terror as Mephistopheles sympathetically offers advice.
For these shadows to take their leave
That they had no business being there
But the shadows, they disagreed
For no matter how Beethoven implored
For these shadows to leave him alone
They chattered on and would not be gone
From his one-man catacomb
Then Twist explained how it was
That they could not do as the composer wished
For since they were his shadows
It was only by his light they could exist
And as Beethoven's life was fading
On this, his final night
It was only natural that these shadows
Should cling closer to his fading light
Now, meanwhile, the clock, it just ticked on
As clocks are known to do
For time's their only purpose
Their only point of view
But when that clock struck midnight
Its chimes both loud and clear
From out of those shifting shadows
A final figure did appear
His voice, it had a certain charm
That concealed all his disease
As he introduced himself to them
As thee, Mephistopheles
He said he had come to collect
The Great Beethoven's soul
He said it wasn't much, you see
"Merely, a lump of coal"
"You look surprised, my dear composer
This simple fact to learn
But before tomorrow morning
Together, we will watch it burn"
Beethoven stepped back in horror
"This thing cannot be true!
I have done no great wrongs in life
At least none that I knew"
"Men quite often forget their sins"
The Devil did reply
"Until it's too late to repent,
Forgetting it's never too late to die
It's part of human nature
Upon which I've come strongly, to rely
Men quite often forget their sins
For redemption can always wait
And I always allow this to happen
It's an important part of my bait
For by the time they remember
It always tends to be...too late
Now, you may think your sins are minor
To enter Hell, they're not enough
Well, a cruel act, a rude word there
Believe me, they add up
And rising from the shadows
Is the specter of your death
For since your birth he has been owed
And now is here to clear the debt
But perhaps we can talk a little while
For you are not dead...not yet"
The cloaked figure of death rises from the floor. He offers Beethoven a bony hand. The composer backs away in terror as Mephistopheles sympathetically offers advice.