Memphistopheles (Narration)

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.