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