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Текст песни Cradle of Filth - Swansong For A Raven

Cradle of Filth - Swansong For A Raven слова песни



Текст песни Cradle of Filth - Swansong For A Raven




Forgive the day'sLast serenadesHer skies they bruise like Nordic womenDeep crimson stains( )That Death would claimHis robes of office swim him inAs would IFor his dark eyeHas fixed, a basilisk, a scytheOn charred remainsWith shared disdainFor those I chose to mortifyTheir criesHave paralysedAnd the smoke has choked these vistasBut still I lieThough tears have driedOn the grave of my ClarissaA verse for her whispered to the earth(A lover's curse is a see-through coffin)Praises her curves so oft concurredThough she was…No Snow White on the night she diedHer shadower's boon when the moon glazed overLipped with blood and secrets priedFor on and in they spread her wideThat seraph brideThe Devil's prideShalt soon avenge with swift repriseBut they would writheFor my dark eyeBewitched, was fixed like Mordecai'sOn Esther's reignAnd in this veinI saw their lust still stain her thighsTheir criesHave paralysedAnd the smoke has choked these vistasBut still I lieThough tears have driedOn the grave of my ClarissaBeneath these trees where the mist enwreathesHer spirit flees, seeing chains of torchesA fleeting kiss stirring leaves of poetry…I was…No dark knight, breaking men like iceI was like a lycanthrope until the moon glazed overLipped with blood and last goodbyesNow I dreamEnwrapt in pure clouds of the sweetest oblivionWhere beauty streamsFreed from the teeth of those beasts that had comeTo tear out her spellsIn red lettered cellsWherein even the crown prince of HellCome out of his arrogant shellWould falter to betterBut her face soon dispelsAnd as black feathers fellFrom heaven's smokeSo I woke to insanityHer exquisite corpseFound fit for their sportOf courseWould burn on the morrow with me…And there on this nightStrung up in my sightNaked she swaysDisplayed for their vulgar delightI scream through my bars at the starsThat for these crimes of mine solace meI will fear not the flamesThat to passion are tameNot nearly the same searing pain(I pray) As held sway upon losing herNor the mettle of roarsThat will settle like ashes and scoresAs with our ghosts in the fogWhen we both turn no more




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