Текст песни Cradle of Filth - Godspeed On The Devil's Thunder
Cradle of Filth - Godspeed On The Devil's Thunder слова песни
Текст песни Cradle of Filth - Godspeed On The Devil's Thunder
"This is the moment I go to God"Burning like derision on the prism of nightStill squirming from the sermon, those determined parasites( )Meant to overpower and bedizen his lightHe paced his tower prison with a dissonant appetiteThe moon was blackDevil may careThree times he'd glared before his judgesDarkening thereWith a Wormwood mindAnd a gullet of poisonAskedHe thought the court a farceHis tongue as sharp as glassA bastard to the lastThis truth assassin...... tautened his claws at the ruinous castFlexing vexation at clerics aghastIn uproar he caused the cross to be maskedAnd the hex of exile from God's Kingdom passedBack in the mirror, shattered vanity diedThe curse even clearer on the sanity sideBanished from the lavish tracts of paradiseFrom Heaven's shored poured to the sore divideThe moon was blackDevil may careTheir thunder sundered all his veilsThickening thereHis beligerent pulseTo a sickening crawlYesHe'd fostered wickednessFed vipers at his breastInflicted death's caressSo now to suffer...He'd burn, discernThat his second turnWould last for eternityIn reckoning flamesThat night his plight marched in demented ParadesO'er a rainbow of black magic scarsThe blood ran to fear, turned to torment in spadesDeep in the sleep of this heretic, barredThe nightmares were livid, occultist, depravedHis epiphany struggled to comeBut dawn found him there, redemptive, preparedLike Christ to Golgotha, his face to the sunAll fears were smearedWhen Joan had appearedIn a shower of tearsLast vestige of innocenceYearning for her vision of divinityOf her miracles and dreamt lyrical deedsHe would meet her at the pyre as the fire kissedAnd together they'd climb to God, entwined in blissDevil may careHe awed the court with a sworn confessionQuickening thereHis radiant deathAnd acute renewalThusThe end was gloriousHe went like Jesus trussedTo shadow and to dustAt the stroke of sevenAndWith thieves at both his handsThe Reaper of these landsWept with holy plansAs he choked to heaven