Death Magick For Adepts Lyrics - Midian - Cradle Of Filth

Come distortured artists 

Bitter things seek meaning 

Even if they're madness to behold 

Once forbears to horizons 

Where the dead stayed dreaming 

Now nightmares waken souls 

That fear the living's toll 

Gova, Bosch and Brueghel 

Three times moonwise stain thy graves 

For words alone are at loss to trace 

The face of today's inhuman wraith 

One half adrift in the vast abyss 

Of despair and misery 

The other a mask of rich red lips 

Whetted by the fevers of belief and greed 

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All damned in this inferno 

Where even Virgil averts his eyes 

From the black mass mutual gang rape 

Of Caesing hands an forced divides 

Trespass these seven gates 

To a world bloodlet to shades 

Where Seraphim bleat 

Of their cold and coming Master's race 

In the seweres of Babylon 

Stillborn to a trough anon 

Chimiracles will hatch like plots 

To dredge faeces to pearl their cross 

Enter Penteholocaust 

Five aeons past, yet still Man grasps 

At final straws to save his cast 

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His Lord is a leper we shall not want 

He betrayed us with white lies 

His acrid pall as of the tomb 

Reminds us how we rot inside 

Gutted like fool's paradise 

Glutted on cruel appetites 

Holding court to chaos 

Folding to far graver arms 

A downfall fatal to all resounds 

As orgies peak in self centred psalms 

And nature screams her sufferings 

Under bowed and cankered wings 

A bleak scorched Earth necrotica burning 

Like the robes we've torn from her 

She begs us lay her pain to rest 

Lest we are left with nothingness 

Save for her stripped and ravished flesh 

And if her fate is not portent of Apocalypse 

Then the comets that graxe nightskies 

Will surely cleanse of wrongs and reichs 

When you and I and all else dies 

It's rotting down 

This carcass Maggotropolis 

Interdependent as worms to the grave 

Allah's true name is naught 

Chist cannot save 

Locked in a waltz of evermore frantic steps 

Spells of regret 

Death Magick for Adepts 

Be prepared to fulfill prophecies 

The glorious fall of a sin dynasty 

Gutted like fool's paradise 

Glutted on cruel appeitites 

We've woven hearts a thorn arbour 

Left tear streaked reason upon the shore 

And bereft of compass, star or more 

Set out for this World's end 

Few at the prow, most slave below 

Painting coal a perfect gold 

But for all it's worth, the engines slow 

Dead in the brine again 

Come cabin fever, sodomy on the bounty 

Prey to phallus seas 

That hiss and foam to douse disease 

A storm roars on the way 

Blacker than the Ace of Rapes 

Dealt out by Death in darkwood glades 

Our ship of fools, all boards handmade 

Sinks, dashed by seismic waves