I bled on a pivotal stretch Like a clockwork Christ Bears sore stigmata, bored
And as I threw Job, I drove Myself to a martyred wretch To see if I drew pity Or pretty litanies from the Lord
So the plot sickened With the coming of days Ill millennia thickened With the claret I sprayed And though they saw red I left a dirty white stain A splintered know in the grain On Eden's marital aid
So glad for the madness
I walked the walls naked to the moon In Sodom and Babylon And through rich whores and corridors Of the Vatican I led a sordid Borgia on
I read the Urilia text So that mortals wormed As livebait for the dead
And as I broke hope, I choked Another pope with manna peel Dictating to DeSade In the dark entrails of the Bastille And as he wrote, I smote A royal blow to the heads of France And in the sheen of guillotines I saw others, fallen, dance
I was an incurable Necromantic old fool A phagadaena that crawled Drooling over the past A rabid wolf in shawl A razor's edge to the rule That the stars overall Were never destined to last
So glad for the madness
I furnaced dreams, a poet, for of sleep Turning sermons with the smell On Witchfinder fingers Where bad memories lingered Burning, as when Dante Was freed to map Hell
I sired schemes and the means To catch sight of the seams And the vagaries inbetween...
And midst the lips and the curls Of this cunt of a world In glimpses I would see A nymph with eyes for me
Eyes of fire that set all life aflame Lights that surpassed art In sight, that no intense device of pain Could prise their secrets from my heart
I knew not her name Though her kiss was the same Without a whisper of shame As either Virtue or Sin's And pressed to Her curve I felt my destiny swerve From damnation reserved To a permanent grin...
Cradle Of Filth - Babylon A.D.
Babylon A.D.
I bled on a pivotal stretch
Like a clockwork Christ
Bears sore stigmata, bored
And as I threw Job, I drove
Myself to a martyred wretch
To see if I drew pity
Or pretty litanies from the Lord
So the plot sickened
With the coming of days
Ill millennia thickened
With the claret I sprayed
And though they saw red
I left a dirty white stain
A splintered know in the grain
On Eden's marital aid
So glad for the madness
I walked the walls naked to the moon
In Sodom and Babylon
And through rich whores and corridors
Of the Vatican
I led a sordid Borgia on
I read the Urilia text
So that mortals wormed
As livebait for the dead
And as I broke hope, I choked
Another pope with manna peel
Dictating to DeSade
In the dark entrails of the Bastille
And as he wrote, I smote
A royal blow to the heads of France
And in the sheen of guillotines
I saw others, fallen, dance
I was an incurable
Necromantic old fool
A phagadaena that crawled
Drooling over the past
A rabid wolf in shawl
A razor's edge to the rule
That the stars overall
Were never destined to last
So glad for the madness
I furnaced dreams, a poet, for of sleep
Turning sermons with the smell
On Witchfinder fingers
Where bad memories lingered
Burning, as when Dante
Was freed to map Hell
I sired schemes and the means
To catch sight of the seams
And the vagaries inbetween...
And midst the lips and the curls
Of this cunt of a world
In glimpses I would see
A nymph with eyes for me
Eyes of fire that set all life aflame
Lights that surpassed art
In sight, that no intense device of pain
Could prise their secrets from my heart
I knew not her name
Though her kiss was the same
Without a whisper of shame
As either Virtue or Sin's
And pressed to Her curve
I felt my destiny swerve
From damnation reserved
To a permanent grin...
So glad for the madness