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Cradle Of Filth
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The Twisted Nails Of Faith
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Letra actual de la canción
"Mirror, mirror on the wall<br />Shouldst not grave pleasures be my all?<br />For if I shall see thy Will be done<br />Grant Me the Witchcraft of thy tongue"<br /><br />Three moondials froze in the shadow of six<br />As another soul passed to the grasping Styx<br />Clutching their trinket crucifix<br />Bats blew from eaves in a dissonant surge<br />Omens of corruption from within the church<br />A fetid, dank oasis still clung to fool rebirth<br /><br />Alone as a stone cold altar<br />The castle and its keep<br />Like faerytale dominion rose<br />A widow to the snow peaks<br />Wherein reclined the Countess<br />Limbs purring from the kill<br />Bathed in virgin white and like the night<br />Alive and young and unfulfilled<br /><br />Was it the cry of a wolf<br />That broke the silver thread of enchanted thoughts?<br />Of Her life as a mere reflection<br />(As the moon's in narrow windows caught)<br />That opened like dark eyelids on<br />The sigh of the woods that the wind fell upon<br /><br />Like a Siren weaving song<br />From the lilt of choirs choking<br />Where the vengeful dead<br />Belong...<br /><br />To the Sorceress and Her charnel arts<br />She swept from ebon towers at the hour of Mars<br />'Neath a star-inwoven sky latticed by scars<br />To unbind knotted reins that kept in canter, despair<br />Shod on melancholy, fleet to sanctuary there,<br />In netherglades tethered where onyx idols stared<br /><br />Was it the Kiss of the mist<br />That peopled the air with the prowess of absinthe?<br />Lost souls begging resurrection<br />From Gods upon their forest plinths<br />Whose epitaphs read of re-ascending to win<br />Remission from despair through a holocaust of sin<br /><br />In a tongue hilted in invective rectums<br />Over signs and seals the sorceress prayed<br />To Death, to rend the slender veil<br />That Ancient Ones might rise again<br /><br />As shadows swelled<br />The Countess fell<br />To masturbating with Her dagger<br />As the Witch gabbled spells<br />Cumming heavy roses all the way to Hell<br />As sudden thunder's grue harangue<br />Announced two pincered worlds<br /><br />Exuding bane, something came<br />With the stench of necrophiled graves<br />To these clandestines<br />Who shrank from glimpsing horror<br />That the growls of mating houls inclined...<br /><br />Resplendent<br />In pendants<br />(Natal trophies torn from bellies of desanctified nuns)<br />A demons, bewinged, bedight<br />In scum, prowled their circle seeking entry to run<br />An arctic tongue upon Her vulva<br />Where rubies smeared to alabaster thighs<br />Glittered like a contract in the purse of a whore<br />Receiving sole communion from the body of christ<br /><br />"If blood is what thou craves, foul fiend<br />I will yield this witch to thee<br />If thou wouldst draw a veil for Me<br />O'er lengthening scars of age and grief"<br /><br />As the Demon slavered foetid vows<br />And bore His prey away<br />In talons itching to perpetrate<br />The nausea of eternal rape<br />The Sorceress screaming in His grasp<br />Spat a final curse to stain<br />The Countess with the promise<br />That Her lord at war would be cruelly slain<br /><br />And She would rot.<br />Alone<br />Insane.<br />On the twisted nails of faith<br />On the twisted nails of faith<br />On the twisted nails of faith
Letra nueva de la canción
"Mirror, mirror on the wall<br />Shouldst not grave pleasures be my all?<br />For if I shall see thy Will be done<br />Grant Me the Witchcraft of thy tongue"<br /><br />Three moondials froze in the shadow of six<br />As another soul passed to the grasping Styx<br />Clutching their trinket crucifix<br />Bats blew from eaves in a dissonant surge<br />Omens of corruption from within the church<br />A fetid, dank oasis still clung to fool rebirth<br /><br />Alone as a stone cold altar<br />The castle and its keep<br />Like faerytale dominion rose<br />A widow to the snow peaks<br />Wherein reclined the Countess<br />Limbs purring from the kill<br />Bathed in virgin white and like the night<br />Alive and young and unfulfilled<br /><br />Was it the cry of a wolf<br />That broke the silver thread of enchanted thoughts?<br />Of Her life as a mere reflection<br />(As the moon's in narrow windows caught)<br />That opened like dark eyelids on<br />The sigh of the woods that the wind fell upon<br /><br />Like a Siren weaving song<br />From the lilt of choirs choking<br />Where the vengeful dead<br />Belong...<br /><br />To the Sorceress and Her charnel arts<br />She swept from ebon towers at the hour of Mars<br />'Neath a star-inwoven sky latticed by scars<br />To unbind knotted reins that kept in canter, despair<br />Shod on melancholy, fleet to sanctuary there,<br />In netherglades tethered where onyx idols stared<br /><br />Was it the Kiss of the mist<br />That peopled the air with the prowess of absinthe?<br />Lost souls begging resurrection<br />From Gods upon their forest plinths<br />Whose epitaphs read of re-ascending to win<br />Remission from despair through a holocaust of sin<br /><br />In a tongue hilted in invective rectums<br />Over signs and seals the sorceress prayed<br />To Death, to rend the slender veil<br />That Ancient Ones might rise again<br /><br />As shadows swelled<br />The Countess fell<br />To masturbating with Her dagger<br />As the Witch gabbled spells<br />Cumming heavy roses all the way to Hell<br />As sudden thunder's grue harangue<br />Announced two pincered worlds<br /><br />Exuding bane, something came<br />With the stench of necrophiled graves<br />To these clandestines<br />Who shrank from glimpsing horror<br />That the growls of mating houls inclined...<br /><br />Resplendent<br />In pendants<br />(Natal trophies torn from bellies of desanctified nuns)<br />A demons, bewinged, bedight<br />In scum, prowled their circle seeking entry to run<br />An arctic tongue upon Her vulva<br />Where rubies smeared to alabaster thighs<br />Glittered like a contract in the purse of a whore<br />Receiving sole communion from the body of christ<br /><br />"If blood is what thou craves, foul fiend<br />I will yield this witch to thee<br />If thou wouldst draw a veil for Me<br />O'er lengthening scars of age and grief"<br /><br />As the Demon slavered foetid vows<br />And bore His prey away<br />In talons itching to perpetrate<br />The nausea of eternal rape<br />The Sorceress screaming in His grasp<br />Spat a final curse to stain<br />The Countess with the promise<br />That Her lord at war would be cruelly slain<br /><br />And She would rot.<br />Alone<br />Insane.<br />On the twisted nails of faith<br />On the twisted nails of faith<br />On the twisted nails of faith
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