Reigning at the feast of Phantasia. Heightened pleasures were endeavored to bow. Before my coronation and vocal aspirations. To rule this fool creation fallen neath me now.
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This is the end of everything. Rear the tragedies. That the Seraphim shall sing. . Related. . 23 One Hit Wonders You Still Can't Get Out Of Your Head.
Aching floorboards spoke my name. In the belly of the beast to foreign shores. In tune with tides that whispered fame. And fortune for our humble Lord.
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The Feast of Fools, 1308. As January slipped into the grip of winter. A leather leash tightened round the throat of fate. . Amidst the flock, disease and dementia.
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Sister midnight comes blaspheming. Screaming in the keys of faith and fear. Unentwining, our spines twists me to kneeling. Spilling like the moonlight on her glistening rear.
We, the nocturnal few. Bound by other laws. To the service of the enemies of God. Are silent and hidden. Yet our exquisite fire burns on. Poised to engulf.
Sister midnight comes blaspheming. Screaming in the keys of faith and fear. Unentwining, our spines twists me to kneeling. Spilling like the moonlight on her glistening rear.
Led to the river. Midsummer I wave. A 'V' of black swans. On with hope to the grave. . And through red September. When skies fire-paved. I begged you appear.
Lead to the river. Midsummer, I waved. A ?V? of black swans. On with hope to the grave. All through Red September. With skies fire-paved. I begged you appear.
Weak midnight promised of love. Were wept upon Her grave. And shunned by stars above. In mortal life lurks my dismay. An Angel stole my heart. and Death took Her away.
Led to the river. Midsummer I wave. A 'V' of black swans. On with hope to the grave. . And through red September. When skies fire-paved. I begged you appear.
Nocturnal Supremacy. . Weak midnight promises of love. Were wept upon Her grave. And shunned by stars above. In mortal life lurks my dismay. An Angel stole my heart.
Tonight is the night. The empowering wind that draws breath from despite. Roars â??neath my wings as I soar with the end in sight. . Choirs ignite. A swansong for Leda.
It's just a feeling. I get sometimes. A feeling. Sometimes. And I get frightened. Just like you. I get frightened too. but it's. . (no no no) No time for heartache.
Mr. Crowley, what went down in your head?. Oh, Mr. Crowley, did you talk with the dead?. Your life style to me seemed so tragic. With the thrill of it all.
Oh dear God. It is midnight in the labyrinth. . The night is set to taint the painted halls. Moonlight is our cue. The candelabra flicker at your passing gall.