MP3: Cradle of Filth-Godspeed On the Devil's Thund
  Text skladby: Cradle of Filth-Godspeed On the Devil's Thund
"This is the moment I go to God"
Burning like derision on the prism of night Still squirming from the sermon, those determined parasites Meant to overpower and bedizen his light He paced his tower prison with a dissonant appetite The moon was black
Devil may care Three times he'd glared before his judges Darkening there
With a Wormwood mind And a gullet of poison
Asked He thought the court a farce His tongue as sharp as glass A bastard to the last This truth assassin...
... tautened his claws at the ruinous cast Flexing vexation at clerics aghast In uproar he caused the cross to be masked And the hex of exile from God's Kingdom passed
Back in the mirror, shattered vanity died The curse even clearer on the sanity side Banished from the lavish tracts of paradise From Heaven's shored poured to the sore divide
The moon was black
Devil may care Their thunder sundered all his veils Thickening there His beligerent pulse To a sickening crawl
Yes He'd fostered wickedness Fed vipers at his breast Inflicted death's caress So now to suffer...
He'd burn, discern That his second turn Would last for eternity In reckoning flames
That night his plight marched in demented Parades O'er a rainbow of black magic scars The blood ran to fear, turned to torment in spades Deep in the sleep of this heretic, barred
The nightmares were livid, occultist, depraved His epiphany struggled to come But dawn found him there, redemptive, prepared Like Christ to Golgotha, his face to the sun
All fears were smeared When Joan had appeared In a shower of tears Last vestige of innocence
Yearning for her vision of divinity Of her miracles and dreamt lyrical deeds
He would meet her at the pyre as the fire kissed And together they'd climb to God, entwined in bliss
Devil may care He awed the court with a sworn confession Quickening there His radiant death And acute renewal
Thus The end was glorious He went like Jesus trussed To shadow and to dust At the stroke of seven
And With thieves at both his hands The Reaper of these lands Wept with holy plans As he choked to heaven
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