Angels hang above my head,
Their nooses growing thin.
It seems that they shall soon fall.
Angels shall fall again.
The blackest of candles
Cast blacker shadows
Upon a waiting chest.
Blood will flow
From violent blows;
A taste above the rest.
Pleasures of the mouth rehearse
With piercing of the skin,
And sing a song with precious verse;
A broken, yet playful thing.
Not to let them pass you by,
Lilith's chosen succubi,
Beckon them to leave you dry.
(What a way to pass the time.)
In her rose you've placed a thorn
Trying hard to satiate.
All the gods look down in scorn
Yet can not look away.