Lirik Lagu Desire In Violent Overture - Cradle Of Filth
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Nights came tralling ghost concertosHeartstrings a score of skeletal reaper bowsPlaying torture chamber music allegrettoConducting over throes trashed to crescendo
Skinless the dark shall screamHoarse Her symphonies
Deathmashed as the moonThat had lifted Her dreamsAnd frowned on the winding steps downTo where the vulgar strayed,Taunting sick Her tender preyShe glided in Her bridal gown
How sleep the pureDesire in Violent Overture
An emanation of phantom madnessThe Countess beheld in shroudBy girls bereft of future vowsSoon to wed in white the frosted groundBurning like a brand on the countenance of godA yearning took Her hand to His Seraphim, bound
Deep red hissed the cat whipsOn the whim of ill-willWhilst She entranced, nonchalant, ablissFlayed further songs of overkill
How weep the pureDesire in Violent overture
In a crescent-whime cellar of crushed rosesPooled blood and broken dollsA torchlit shadow theatre souledWith the echoed cries of lives She stole
Killing timeShe struck the hours deadIn Her controlThus menopausedHer clock of hacked out cuntsBegan to toll
"Thirteen chimes of ancient strainI conjure forth with dirgeThat fills the void with timbred painTo fulfil my sexual urge"
Frights came wailing from the DarksideHaunting lipless mouths a fugue of arcane diatribesVelvet, their voices coffined Her in slumberBespattered and appeasedAs pregnant skies outside bore thunder
How sleep the pureDesire in violent overture
As when high windsAttune whipped treesHer savage nature pitchedWould once again conduct the pleasOf those She loved to agonies
As if it wereThe first time every nightThat She carved Her sealIn the flesh of life.
Skinless the dark shall screamHoarse Her symphonies
Deathmashed as the moonThat had lifted Her dreamsAnd frowned on the winding steps downTo where the vulgar strayed,Taunting sick Her tender preyShe glided in Her bridal gown
How sleep the pureDesire in Violent Overture
An emanation of phantom madnessThe Countess beheld in shroudBy girls bereft of future vowsSoon to wed in white the frosted groundBurning like a brand on the countenance of godA yearning took Her hand to His Seraphim, bound
Deep red hissed the cat whipsOn the whim of ill-willWhilst She entranced, nonchalant, ablissFlayed further songs of overkill
How weep the pureDesire in Violent overture
In a crescent-whime cellar of crushed rosesPooled blood and broken dollsA torchlit shadow theatre souledWith the echoed cries of lives She stole
Killing timeShe struck the hours deadIn Her controlThus menopausedHer clock of hacked out cuntsBegan to toll
"Thirteen chimes of ancient strainI conjure forth with dirgeThat fills the void with timbred painTo fulfil my sexual urge"
Frights came wailing from the DarksideHaunting lipless mouths a fugue of arcane diatribesVelvet, their voices coffined Her in slumberBespattered and appeasedAs pregnant skies outside bore thunder
How sleep the pureDesire in violent overture
As when high windsAttune whipped treesHer savage nature pitchedWould once again conduct the pleasOf those She loved to agonies
As if it wereThe first time every nightThat She carved Her sealIn the flesh of life.
