cradle_lyrics

A Gothic Romance

Evening minuetto in a castle by the sea, a jewel more radiant than the moon lowered Her mask to me. The sublimest creature the Gods, full of fire would marvel at making their Queen. Infusing the air with Her fragrant desire, and my heart reeled with grave poetry....

From grace I fell in love with Her, scent and feline lure, and jade woodland eyes that ushered in the impurest "Erotic laden fantasies amid this warm Autumn night", She lured me away from the rich masquerade, and together we clung in the bloodletting moonlight. Pearled Luna, what spell did thou cast on me? Her icy kiss fervoured my neck like whispering waves 'pon Acherson's beach. In a whirl of sweet voices and statues that phantomed the dying trees, this debauched seductress in black, took me...

In a pale azure dawn like a Ligeia reborn, I tore free of my sleep-sepulchure. On the sea misted lawn where the stone figures, forlorn lamented the spectre of Her. Bewildered and weak, yet with passion replete I hungered for past overtures, the curse of unrest and her ardent caress came much more than my soul could endure...

I, at once endeavoured to see Her again stirring from mid-night's inertia, knowing not even Her name. On a thin precipice over a carnal abyss, I danced like a blind acolyte drunk on red wine, Her dead lips on mine suffused with the perfume of night.

For hours I scoured the surrounding grounds, in vain, that we might meet. When storm clouds broke, ashened, fatigued I sought refuge in a cemetery.

Sleep, usher dreams taint to nightmares from a sunless nether.

Mistress of the dark, I know now what thou art.

Screams haunt my sleep, dragged from nightmares thou hast wed together.

Lamia and Lemures, spawned thee leche, to snare my flesh.

Portrait of the Dead Countess.

Deep stained pain that I had dreamt, flaunted demise, life's punishment leaving little strength to seal this wretched tomb...

But poised nectar within me stirs up feverous desire and morbid purpose to search through cob-webbed drapery where she swoons. Goddess of the graveyard, of the tempest and moon. In flawless fatal beauty her very visage compels glimpses of a heaven where ghost companies fell to mourning the loss of God in the blackest of velvet, enrobed in there downfall like a swift silhouette.

"Fleeting, enshadowed thou art privy to my sin. Secrets dead, wouldst thou inflict the cruel daylights upon my skin? Dost thou not want to worship me with crimson sacrifice so my cunt may twitch against thy kiss and weep with new-found life?"

Red roses for the Devil's whore...

Dark angels taste my tears and whisper haunting requiems softly to mine ear. Need-fires have lured abominations here...

Nocturnal pulse my veins spill forth thier waters rent apart by lips I cherish most.

Awash on her perfidious shores where drowning umbra oe'r the stars Ebon's graves where lovers whore like seraphim and Nahemah.

"Nahemah"

Pluck out mine eyes, hasten attest blind reason against thee, Enchantress. For I must know, art thou not Death? My heart echos bloodless and incensed...

Doth temptation prowl night in vulvic revelry, did not the Queen of Heaven come as Devil to me? On that fatal Hallow's Eve when we fled company as the music swept around us in the crisp, fated leaves under horned Diana where her bloodline was sewn in a graveyard of angels rent in cool marble stone. I am grieving the loss of life in sombre velvet, enrobed in Death's shadow like a swifter sillhouette...