Interpret:

Cradle of Filth

Album:

Midian

Come distortured artists 
Bitter things seek meaning 
Even if they're madness to behold 
Once forbears to horizons 
Where the dead stayed dreaming 
Now nightmares waken souls 
That fear the living's toll 


Gova, Bosch and Brueghel 
Three times moonwise stain thy graves 
For words alone are at loss to trace 
The face of today's inhuman wraith 


One half adrift in the vast abyss 
Of despair and misery 
The other a mask of rich red lips 
Whetted by the fevers of belief and greed 


All damned in this inferno 
Where even Virgil averts His eyes 
From the black mass mutual gang rape 
Of Caesing hands an forced divides 


Trespass these seven gates 
To a world bloodlet to shades 
Where Seraphim 
(Falling on deaf ears) bleat 
Of their cold and coming Master's race 
In the seweres of Babylon 
Stillborn to a trough anon 
Chimiracles will hatch like plots 
To dredge faeces to pearl their cross 


Enter Penteholocaust! 
Five Aeons past, yet still Man grasps 
At final straws to save his cast 


His Lord is a leper we shall not want 
He betrayed us with white lies 
His acrid pall as of the tomb 
Reminds us how we rot inside 


Gutted like fool's paradise 
Glutted on cruel appetites... 


Holding court to chaos 
Folding to far graver arms 
A downfall fatal to all resounds 
As orgies peak in self centred psalms 


And Nature screams Her sufferings 
Under bowed and cankered wings 
A bleak scorched Earth necrotica burning 
Like the robes we've torn from Her 


She begs Us lay Her pain to rest 
Lest We are left with nothingness 
Save for Her stripped and ravished flesh 


And if Her fate is not portent of Apocalypse 
Then the comets that graxe nightskies 
Will surely cleanse of wrongs and reichs 
When you and I and all else dies... 


It's rotting down 
This carcass Maggotropolis 


Interdependent as worms to the grave 
Allah's true name is naught 
Chist acannot save 
Locked in a waltz of evermore frantic steps 
Spells of regret... 
Death Magick for Adepts 


Be prepared to fulfill prophecies 
The glorious fall of a sin dynasty 


Gutted like fool's paradise 
Glutted on cruel appeitites... 


"We've woven hearts a thorn arbour 
Left tear streaked reason upon the shore 
And bereft of compass, star or more 
Set out for this World's end 
Few at the prow, most slave below 
Painting coal a perfect gold 
But for all it's worth, the engines slow 
Dead in the brine again 
Come cabin fever, sodomy on the bounty 
Prey to phallus seas 
That hiss and foam to douse disease 
A storm roars on the way 
Blacker than the Ace of Rapes 
Dealt out by Death in darkwood glades 
Our Ship of Fools, all boards handmade 
Sinks, dashed by seismic waves..."