bathory aria

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  1. cradle of filth'in kendini aştığı şarkısı. tamamıyla mükemmeldir, her saniyesi, her vokali ayrı bir tattır. sözleri şu şekildedir:

    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
    'neath 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
    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 o'er 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 o'er 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
    for 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 sins [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 bequathed 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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