Kishore Kumar Hits

Cradle Of Filth - Bathory Aria - Remixed and Remastered lyrics

Artist: Cradle Of Filth

album: Cruelty and the Beast - Re-Mistressed


Snuffed tapers sighed as Death left impressing,
His crest of cold tears on the Countess.
Benighted like ill-fated Usher,
The house of Bathory shrouded,
Beneath griefs dark facade.
If only I could have wept in mourning by her side.
I would have clasped her so tight,
Like storm-beached aphrodite,
Drowned on Kytherean tides.
And Kissed her,
For from her alone,
My lips would have known.
Enigmas of shadowy vistas.
Where pleasures took flesh and pain,
Remorseless came freezing the breath,
Of raucous life hushed unto whispers.
Benighted!
Inhaling the pale waning moonlight that crept,
Through the crypt of her Lord who so lucidly slept.
Benighted!
Exhaling the wail of black widowhood's toll,
Waxing eternal night entered her soul.
Now haranguing grey skies With revenge upon life,
Gnathic and sapphic needs begged gendercide.
Delusions of Grandier denounced the revolt,
Of descrying cursed glass, disenchanted in vaults.
Encircled by glyphs midst her sin-sistered cult.
With hangman's abandon she plied spiritworlds.
To Archangels in bondage, from light to night hurled.
Cast down to the earth where torment would unfurl.
But soon her tarot proved,
Hybrid rumours spread like tumours, would accrue.
And blight her stars, however scarred,
To better bitter truths of cold bloodbaths.
As bodies rose in rigid droves,
To haunt her from their shallow burials imposed.
When wolves exhumed, their carthen wombs,
Where heavy frosts had laboured long to bare their wounds.
To the depths of her soul they pursued.
Wielding their poison they flew,
Like a murder of ravens in fugue.
And knowing their raptures would shatter her dreams.
She clawed blackened books for damnation's reprieve.
Baneful cawed canons on amassed enemies.
So Hallow's Eve as she received,
Like Bellona to the ball, those enemies.
Fell-sisters heaved her torturies,
Cross stained flagstones to her carriage, reined to flee.
But she knew she must brave the night through.
Though fear crept a deathshead over the moon,
Like a murder of ravens in fugue.
For each masked, jewelled gaze held dread purpose,
Horror froze painted eyes to cold stares.
And even her dance in the vast mirrors cast,
Looked the ill of her future, if fate feasted there.
In an age crucified by the nails of faith,
When rank scarecrows of Christ blighted lands.
An aloof Countess born an obsidian wraith.
Dared the abyss, knowing well she was damned.
Her life whispered grief like a funeral march.
Twisted and yearning, obsessed an entranced.
With those succumbing to cruelty,
Crushed 'neath the gait of her dance.
A whirlwind of fire that swept through the briers,
Of sweet rose her thickets of black thorn had grasped.
She demanded the heavens and forever to glean,
The elixir of youth from the pure.
Whilst her lesbian fantasies reamed to extremes,
Over decades unleashed came for blood's silken cure.
But her reign ended swiftly,
For dark Gods dreamt too deep,
To heed her pleas.
When her gaolers were assailed,
With condemnations from a priest.
Who'd stammered rites in the dead of night,
Or maidens staining winding sheets.
And she postured proud when her crimes were trowelled,
And jezebelled to peasant lips.
Though she smelt the fires that licked limbs higher,
To the tortured cunts of accomplices.
So ends this twisted fable's worth,
And though spared the pyre's bite.
By dint of nobled bloodlined birth,
Her crimes garnered her no respite.
Forever severed from the thrill of coming night,
Where slow Death alone could grant her flight.
The spirits have all but fled judgement.
I rot, alone, insane,
Where the forest whispers puce laments for me.
From amidst the pine and wreathed wolfsbane.
Beyond these walls, wherein condemned,
To the gloom of an austere tomb.
I pace with feral madness sent,
Through the pale beams of a guiltless moon.
Who, bereft of necrologies,
Thus commands creation over the earth.
Whilst I resign my lips to death.
A slow cold kiss that chides rebirth,
Though one last wish is bequeathed by fate.
My beauty shalt wilt, unseen.
Save for twin black eyes that shalt come to take,
My soul to peace or Hell for company
My soul to Hell for company...

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