Cradle Of Filth

At the very start
There were whispers in the dark
And for all the world to see
There was witchcraft at its heart
And on the autumn air
The scent of bonfires everywhere
And a fell wind stirred the leaves...
The persecution song
Telltale signs of possession
Little Miss Demeanour in the demons bed
Gasps she just could not suppress
After lights-out midst the dead
And a past on which sin cast its darts of wickedness
Time was running faster for disaster
Strange nights were burning
In the furnace of her dreams
A name was uttered, Lilith
Mistress, playmate, master
Such sights were stolen in the throes of ecstasy
And in the thick of all
In the Black Goddess's thrall
With the wood unseen for trees
Victoria stood tall
Promiscuous in step
The Devil breathing down her neck
As jealous zealots stitched apiece...
The persecution song
Telltale signs of possession
Fickle Miss Demeanour hissed and disappeared
To her Sisters of the cloth
She now reeked of Astaroth
Again the curse had surfaced
Sneaking back the pagan years
Weaving webs of great revealing
Hidden in the convent
An evil libido abided, undone
Breathing, deceiving
Feasting on her deviant feelings
She'd clung to her crucifix
Once her torturers begun
Her screams came quick