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Текст песни Cradle of Filth - Sweetest Maleficia

Cradle of Filth - Sweetest Maleficia слова песни



Текст песни Cradle of Filth - Sweetest Maleficia




"I conjure you Barron, Satan, BeelzebubBy the Father, the Son and the Holy SpiritBy the Virgin Mary and all the saintsTo appear in person, so that you may speak to us( )And fulfill our desiresCome at my bidding and I will grant youWhatever you want, however vileAnd the curtailing of my life"He would rise triumphantAll done upOn a plume of raven wingsTrafficking with sycophantsSharing his cupAmidst other graver thingsAlchemists and sorcerers stitched his headWith the stench of pitch and myrrhThe devout faded out but the pagan remainedThe candles burnt low and still nothing cameBearing golden secrets from a cold malevolent raceHe would have his demon!He would have his vice!All save his soul was up for sacrifice!Despite their raising not a single hairEverything stank of witchcraft thereFrom the stained chapel to the statued lawnIn Caprineum on the lakeTo the still lit crypts and the slit of dawnSliding down the towers, it all smelt fakeHe needed answers not adviceIntending to deviseA lengthy train of torture for the foolWho thought a seance would sufficeOr sighted, furred in dragonfliesThe signature of Satan on a wallSweetest MaleficiaPlanchette to Blanchet, from ghosts to a priestReturning with a spider for the poisonous feastThe Italian astrologer Prelati, spinning sinHis fingertips were scented withThe tears from seraphim cheeksPart glamour and a hammerCadaverous and glibCommanding in a voice of frozen peaksHe would have his demon!He would have his gold!Out of control Gilles' soul was soldUnder mistletoe and the glistening snowKissing in the shadow of abandoned saviours"So I shall conjure Thee demons of the Netherworld"(From the banquet hall to the stable gatesA graveyard shift in toneSank upon the castle, like a papal weightOr a deep philosophical stone)The air was sick with trepidationDespair and desperationThen he fixed his covenant in bloodNow all was rich and tapestriedFragrant wine to shitty meadHis new world opened with a claret floodTime was right, this wretched nightTo etch the circles clear again...As a labyrinth of razors led a blind man to the starsSo too Prelati brought the darkIt's name was Barron, eyes like catastrophic tarImbibed with fireThey fed him shredded infants on an altar full of scarsEntangled in a dreamThe mirrors full of steamHe scarce could see Joan's face reflecting throughHis last attempt to grasp at GodLay blackened in a holy fogAnd now there were only devils to pursueGilles was wrapped in a velvet spellOf Hell and her seductionsThe assassinated days as a Caesar gone byBarron, spitting acid, as his magical guideLit demonic pyres where once dying embers writhedSweetest Maleficia




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