Interpret:

Cradle of Filth

Album:

Lovecraft & Witch Hearts

I was born with a birthmark of cinders 
Debris cast from the stars and Mother 
A ring of bright slaughter, I spat in the waters 
Of life that ran slick from the stabwounds in Her 


Dub Me Lord Abortion, the living dead 
The bonesaw on the backseat 
On this bitter night of giving head 
A sharp rear entry, an exit in red 
Lump in the throat, on my come choke 
The killing joke worn thin with breath 


I grew up on the sluts bastard Father beat blue 
Keepsake cunts cut full out easing puberty through 


Aah! Nostalgia grows 
Now times nine or ten 
Within this vice den called a soul 
Dying resurrection 
I dig deep to come again 
The spasm of orgasm on a roll... 


I live the slow serrated rape 
The bucks fizz of amyl nitrate 
Victims force fed thair own face 
Tear stains upon the drape 
I should compare them 
To a warm Summer's day 
But to the letter, it is better 
To lichen their names to a grave 


Counting My years on an abacus strung 
With labial rings and heartstrings undone 


Dub Me Lord Abortion, the living dead 
The bonesaw on the backseat 
On this bitter night of giving head 
A sharp rear entry, an exit in red 
Lump in the throat, on My come choke 
The killing joke worn thin with breath 


Horrorscopes My diorama 
A twelve part (so far) psychodrama 
Another chained I mean to harm Her 
Inside as well as out 
A perverts gasp inside the mask 
I'm hard, blow My house of cards 
All turn up Death, Her bleeding starts 
In brute vermillion parts... 


Now I slither through the hairline cracks 
In sanity, best watch your back 


Possessed with levering Hell's gates wide 
Liberating knives to cut Humanity slack 


My ambition is to slay anon 
A sinner in the hands of a dirty God 
Who lets Me prey, a Gilles De Rais 
Of light where faith leads truth astray 


I slit guts guts and free the moistest facces 
Corrupt the corpse and seize the choicest pieces 
Her alabaster limbs that dim the lit carnal grin 
Vaginal skin to later taste and masturbate within 


"My heart was a wardrum beat 
By jugular cults in eerie jungle vaults 
When number thirteen fell in My lap 
Lips and skin like sin, a Venus Mantrap 
My appetite whetted, storm crows wheeled 
At the blurred edges or reason 'til I was fulfilled 
Whors d'oeuvres eaten, I tucked Her into 
A grave coffin fit for the Queen of Spades 
She went out like the light in My mind 
Her face an avalanche of pearl, of ruby wine... 
Much was a flux, but the mouth once good for fucks 
Came from retirement to prove She had not lost Her touch 
I kissed Her viciously, maliciously, religiously 
But when has ONE been able TO best seperate the THREE? 
I know I'm sick as Dahmer did, but this is what I do 
Aah, aah, ahh, I'll let you sleep when I am through..." 


The suspect shadow sher they least 
Expect My burning grasp to reach 


The stranglehold, the opened arms 
Seeking sweet meat with no holes barred 


Rainbows that My razors wrung 
Midst Her screams and seams undone 
Sung at the top of punctured lungs 
I bite My spiteful tongue 
Lest curses spat from primal lairs 
Freeze romance where Angels, bare 
Are lost to love, bloodloss, despair 
I weep, they merely stare... 
And stare, and stare, and stare, and stare.