Lirik Lagu The Persecution Song - Cradle Of Filth
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At the very startThere were whispers in the darkAnd for all the world to seeThere was witchcraft at its heartAnd on the autumn airThe scent of bonfires everywhereAnd a fell wind stirred the leaves...
The persecution song
Telltale signs of possessionLittle Miss Demeanour in the demons bedGasps she just could not suppressAfter lights-out midst the deadAnd a past on which sin cast its darts of wickedness
Time was running faster for disasterStrange nights were burningIn the furnace of her dreamsA name was uttered, LilithMistress, playmate, masterSuch sights were stolen in the throes of ecstasy
And in the thick of allIn the Black Goddess's thrallWith the wood unseen for treesVictoria stood tallPromiscuous in stepThe Devil breathing down her neckAs jealous zealots stitched apiece...
The persecution song
Telltale signs of possessionFickle Miss Demeanour hissed and disappearedTo her Sisters of the clothShe now reeked of AstarothAgain the curse had surfacedSneaking back the pagan years
Weaving webs of great revealingHidden in the conventAn evil libido abided, undoneBreathing, deceivingFeasting on her deviant feelingsShe'd clung to her crucifixOnce her torturers begun
Her screams came quickThe miserichordDen to vice and screwThat had reddened many tonguesWrung symphoniesOf suffering from her
Many moons hardened pure heartsThose plagued by her black artsTheir rooms secreting phantom orgiesVile rites and rifled graves
Mere hours, now toweredAbove this bent and beaten flowerHer naked body privy toThe Abbess and her ways
Victoria foughtNo guilt was wroughtJust a torrid retort of blasphemiesNails and crosses vomited forthFrom this pretty little whore now arched like Hell
Arched like Hell
At the very startThere were whispers in the darkAnd for all the world to seeThere was witchcraft at its heartBut then the end grew nighA dirge inferno filled the skyIn its customary key...
The persecution song
Telltale signs of obsessionNo wailing banshee would dishonour their nameNuns dragged her to the blasted oakStorm-clouds threatened holy smokeThey hanged her there like JudasWith the Hellcat in her reined
Time was running faster for disasterExorcism, torture, gallowsNow a shallow graveA name was stuttered, IsaacTongue-tied, simple, bastardThey made him dig the pitMindless of what it claimed
The persecution song
Telltale signs of possessionLittle Miss Demeanour in the demons bedGasps she just could not suppressAfter lights-out midst the deadAnd a past on which sin cast its darts of wickedness
Time was running faster for disasterStrange nights were burningIn the furnace of her dreamsA name was uttered, LilithMistress, playmate, masterSuch sights were stolen in the throes of ecstasy
And in the thick of allIn the Black Goddess's thrallWith the wood unseen for treesVictoria stood tallPromiscuous in stepThe Devil breathing down her neckAs jealous zealots stitched apiece...
The persecution song
Telltale signs of possessionFickle Miss Demeanour hissed and disappearedTo her Sisters of the clothShe now reeked of AstarothAgain the curse had surfacedSneaking back the pagan years
Weaving webs of great revealingHidden in the conventAn evil libido abided, undoneBreathing, deceivingFeasting on her deviant feelingsShe'd clung to her crucifixOnce her torturers begun
Her screams came quickThe miserichordDen to vice and screwThat had reddened many tonguesWrung symphoniesOf suffering from her
Many moons hardened pure heartsThose plagued by her black artsTheir rooms secreting phantom orgiesVile rites and rifled graves
Mere hours, now toweredAbove this bent and beaten flowerHer naked body privy toThe Abbess and her ways
Victoria foughtNo guilt was wroughtJust a torrid retort of blasphemiesNails and crosses vomited forthFrom this pretty little whore now arched like Hell
Arched like Hell
At the very startThere were whispers in the darkAnd for all the world to seeThere was witchcraft at its heartBut then the end grew nighA dirge inferno filled the skyIn its customary key...
The persecution song
Telltale signs of obsessionNo wailing banshee would dishonour their nameNuns dragged her to the blasted oakStorm-clouds threatened holy smokeThey hanged her there like JudasWith the Hellcat in her reined
Time was running faster for disasterExorcism, torture, gallowsNow a shallow graveA name was stuttered, IsaacTongue-tied, simple, bastardThey made him dig the pitMindless of what it claimed
