Current 93

I'm clicking your fingers for a gothic twilight
that actually existed just in your head
your fingernails painted black
or bloodred
I forget
And your fake-leather volumes
jabbering on hell
manifest decadence was what you hoped to exhail
your eyes tried so hard to glitter
A star-snuffing black
so you opened your books
and you opened your legs
and so opened your heart
and let in the badness
you claimed
as your friend
with un-angels hovering
like flies round the orchard
that had covered your soul
their empire increasing
and your country
deserted by yourself
The bells of St. Mary call us to remember
that life is with end