Cradle Of Filth

When Joan was burnt
He knew malevolence
At the heart of all
A cold and jagged abyss bled of sense
The throne he earned
Through God's benevolence
Started his own fall
Clothing ragged dogma in his own magnificence
Here the stench, the gold events
The bold inventions of the will
Luxuries and splendours past the ken of mortal men
Every wanton bent desire went fulfilled
A Daemon sat upon the top of the world
Like a Herod over Genesis
They sang hosannas as his banners unfurled
Kissing terrors with paralysis
His brash canvas insulted the view
moving heaven and earth to please the
Tumultitudes, whom his strange retinue drew
To assert the thirteenth Caesar
The thirteenth Caesar
Ichor kicked inside his veins
The thirteenth Caesar
War was licked, for shame