Death Magick for Adepts

Death Magick for Adepts - Cradle Of Filth

Come distortured artists

Bitter things seek meaning

Even if they're madness to behold

Once forbears to horizons

Where the dead stayed dreaming

Now nightmares waken souls

That fear the living's toll

Gova Bosch and Brueghel

Three times moonwise stain thy graves

For words alone are at loss to trace

The face of today's inhuman wraith

One half adrift in the vast abyss

Of despair and misery

The other a mask of rich red lips

Whetted by the fevers of belief and greed

All damned in this inferno

Where even Virgil averts His eyes

From the black mass mutual gang rape

Of Caesing hands an forced divides

Trespass these seven gates

To a world bloodlet to shades

Where Seraphim

(Falling on deaf ears) bleat

Of their cold and coming Master's race

In the seweres of Babylon

Stillborn to a trough anon

Chimiracles will hatch like plots

To dredge faeces to pearl their cross

Enter Penteholocaust

Five Aeons past yet still Man grasps

At final straws to save his cast

His Lord is a leper we shall not want

He betrayed us with white lies

His acrid pall as of the tomb

Reminds us how we rot inside

Gutted like fool's paradise

Glutted on cruel appetites

Holding court to chaos

Folding to far graver arms

A downfall fatal to all resounds

As orgies peak in self centred psalms

And Nature screams Her sufferings

Under bowed and cankered wings

A bleak scorched Earth necrotica burning

Like the robes we've torn from Her

She begs Us lay Her pain to rest

Lest We are left with nothingness

Save for Her stripped and ravished flesh

And if Her fate is not portent of Apocalypse

Then the comets that graxe nightskies

Will surely cleanse of wrongs and reichs

When you and I and all else dies

It's rotting down

This carcass Maggotropolis

Interdependent as worms to the grave

Allah's true name is naught

Chist acannot save

Locked in a waltz of evermore frantic steps

Spells of regret

Death Magick for Adepts

Be prepared to fulfill prophecies

The glorious fall of a sin dynasty

Gutted like fool's paradise

Glutted on cruel appeitites

"We've woven hearts a thorn arbour

Left tear streaked reason upon the shore

And bereft of compass star or more

Set out for this World's end

Few at the prow most slave below

Painting coal a perfect gold

But for all it's worth the engines slow

Dead in the brine again

Come cabin fever sodomy on the bounty

Prey to phallus seas

That hiss and foam to douse disease

A storm roars on the way

Blacker than the Ace of Rapes

Dealt out by Death in darkwood glades

Our Ship of Fools all boards handmade

Sinks dashed by seismic waves "