Interpret:

Cradle of Filth

Album:

Thornography

The needle in the eye of the hurricane 
The poison in the font 
The nail in the coffin of the profane 
I am the lot 


Maniacal the fire 
That weaves inside my should 
When dripping tongues of hate, envenomed, roll 
Like carpet bombs in vast bazaars 
My blood runs with the beasts 
Though no crescent, cross 
Or wandering star 
Shalt witness my defeat 


Born of jackal in the Vatican 
To a loathsome flock I have crept behind the drapes 
And a wizard there is not 
Just a white flag blackened by 
Singing weapons that have led 
A faith that soon dominions over 
Desert kingdoms of the dead 


I smell the fleur du malcontent 
The hellish stench 
Of Judas in the dozens 


Bouquets for greed and twisted law 
Handmaidens of a holy war 
Bring on a thousand roses more 
I am the thorn 
Tangled are the thickets 
That spare the virgin heart 
From the waking grasp of rapists in the dark 


Mountaineers that strive so far 
For a Heaven grown from reach 
That love herself is fabled 
To be missing from their peaks 
Save in one sole tower 
Where the presence of a rod 
Stays the sleeping beauty 
From the prying fingers of the mob 


I smell the fleur du malcontent 
The hellish stench 
Of Judas in the dozens 


Bouquets for greed and twisted law 
Handmaidens of a holy war 
Bring on a thousand roses more 
I am the thorn 


I am the thorn 


I am the Spear of Longinus 
The sword of Damocles 
Kali up in arms, a bleeding sinus 
The hammer of the gods in the prophet’s teeth 


Saint Disgustus, President Evil 
Great white hopes of a shark-eyed people 
Light of the world now flicker and die 


Impaled in the race, in the paling face 
Where forked tongues pricked the skies 
Choking on these words as I slither to their ear 
A lightning strikes their blinded mains 


I am not the hand of god... 
I am the thorn 


Territorial thieves 
Ever stealing thunder for religious causes 
I will bring you all down to your knees 


And fuck you over