Cradle of Filth je black/gothicmetalová skupina založená v Suffolku ve Spojeném království roku 1991. Kapela, které dominuje chorobně ječivý vokál Daniho Filtha, hrála zprvu black metal doplněný o temné klávesové party. Dnes je její styl...

Píseň: Soft White Throat

Interpret:
Cradle of Filth
Album:
Nymphetamine
A voyeur in league with the great thief night 
In an overthrow of women light 
Slid in to rob the prayers 
She whispered to the air with thin deliberation 


Spare me from the wolves 
Clawing past my door 
Tear me from the ghouls 
That start to gnaw my fingers 


Following her heart 
And every beat that spoke 
I kissed her risen, naked 
Soft white throat 


Soft white throat 


Incense lit at perfection's feet 
Has never burnt so sickly sweet 
As the fragrance of her breath 
When her lips met death with such imagination 


Bear me to the moon 
The dour toll of bells 
Scare me with their boon 
Of winters bitter graveyards 


Swallowing her fear 
I veered beneath her coat 
Of soft white meat on 
Soft white throat 


Crepuscular, the lust in her 
Went supernova 
Setting maps aflame 
Before her veins ran colder 
And muscular, the final thrust 
In her spilled over 
Covering her back 
I saw an angel lift her 
Coma 


I fell to eyes 
Of a bestial past that once 
Teaching grief through jaded pupils 
Now shone like celestial glass in hell 
In hell 


And doused in the glow from her parting gift 
Never there lay, with curves like snowdrifts 
A beauty so frozen in bliss 
Slumped to warm the dead to a standing ovation 


Spare me from the wolves 
Clawing past my door 
Tear me from the ghouls 
That start to gnaw my fingers 


Following her heart 
And every beat that spoke 
I kissed her risen, naked 
Soft white throat 


Soft white throat 


Crepuscular, the lust in her 
Went supernova 
Setting maps aflame 
Before her veins ran colder 
And muscular, the final thrust 
In her spilled over 
Smothering her cracks 
I was the devil on her shoulder 


Dear Lord I cry, before I die 
Grant me the taste of love 
One final time lest I should hide 
When seraph call me from above 


And should remorse not stay my course 
From debt, addresses wept 
Will ask no more of you my Lord 
Save that my soul in hell is kept