Cradle Of Filth
From The Cradle To Enslave
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| Добавлена 1 сентября 2011 пользователем Iron Man |
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Текст песни From The Cradle To Enslave
Two thousandfattened years like maniacs
Have despoiled our common grave
Now what necrophagous Second Coming backs
From the cradle to enslave?
Sickle constellations
Stud the belts that welt the sky
Whilst the bitter winter moon
Prowls the cloud, dead-eyed
Like shifting parent flesh
Under silk matricide...
Watchful as she was upon Eden
Where every rose arbour and orchard she swept
Hid the hissing of a serpent Libido
In an ancient tryst with catastrophe
Soon the be kept
Hear that hissing now on the breeze
As through the plundered groves of the carnal garden
A fresh horror blows but ten billion souls
Are blind to see the rotting wood for the trees
This is the theme to a better Armageddon
Nightchords rake the heavens
PAN DAEMON AEAON
And what use are prayers to that god?
As devils bay concensus for the space to piss
On your smouldering faith
And the mouldering face
Of this world long a paradise lost
This is the end of everything
Hear the growing chora that a new dawn shall bring
Danse macabre 'neath the tilt of the zodiac
Now brighter stars shall reflect on our fate
What sick nativities will be freed when those lights burn black?
The darkside of the mirror always threw our malice back...
I see the serpentine in your eyes
The nature of the beast as revelations arrive
Have despoiled our common grave
Now what necrophagous Second Coming backs
From the cradle to enslave?
Sickle constellations
Stud the belts that welt the sky
Whilst the bitter winter moon
Prowls the cloud, dead-eyed
Like shifting parent flesh
Under silk matricide...
Watchful as she was upon Eden
Where every rose arbour and orchard she swept
Hid the hissing of a serpent Libido
In an ancient tryst with catastrophe
Soon the be kept
Hear that hissing now on the breeze
As through the plundered groves of the carnal garden
A fresh horror blows but ten billion souls
Are blind to see the rotting wood for the trees
This is the theme to a better Armageddon
Nightchords rake the heavens
PAN DAEMON AEAON
And what use are prayers to that god?
As devils bay concensus for the space to piss
On your smouldering faith
And the mouldering face
Of this world long a paradise lost
This is the end of everything
Hear the growing chora that a new dawn shall bring
Danse macabre 'neath the tilt of the zodiac
Now brighter stars shall reflect on our fate
What sick nativities will be freed when those lights burn black?
The darkside of the mirror always threw our malice back...
I see the serpentine in your eyes
The nature of the beast as revelations arrive
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