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Cradle Of Filth
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Sweetest Maleficia
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Current song lyrics
He would rise triumphant<br />All done up<br />On a plume of raven wings<br />Trafficking with sycophants<br />Sharing his cup<br />Amidst other graver things<br /><br />Alchemists and sorcerers stitched his head<br />With the stench of pitch and myrrh<br /><br />The devout faded out but the pagan remained<br />The candles burnt low and still nothing came<br />Bearing golden secrets from a cold malevolent race<br /><br />He would have his demon!<br />He would have his vice!<br />All save his soul was up for sacrifice!<br />Despite their raising not a single hair<br />Everything stank of witchcraft there<br /><br />From the stained chapel to the statued lawn<br />In Caprineum on the lake<br />To the still lit crypts and the slit of dawn<br />Sliding down the towers, it all smelt fake<br /><br />He needed answers not advice<br />Intending to devise<br />A lengthy train of torture for the fool<br />Who thought a seance would suffice<br />Or sighted, furred in dragonflies<br />The signature of Satan on a wall<br /><br />Sweetest Maleficia<br /><br />Planchette to Blanchet, from ghosts to a priest<br />Returning with a spider for the poisonous feast<br />The Italian astrologer Prelati, spinning sin<br /><br />His fingertips were scented with<br />The tears from seraphim cheeks<br />Part glamour and a hammer<br />Cadaverous and glib<br />Commanding in a voice of frozen peaks<br /><br />He would have his demon!<br />He would have his gold!<br />Out of control Gilles' soul was sold<br />Under mistletoe and the glistening snow<br />Kissing in the shadow of abandoned saviours<br /><br />(From the banquet hall to the stable gates<br />A graveyard shift in tone<br />Sank upon the castle, like a papal weight<br />Or a deep philosophical stone)<br /><br />The air was sick with trepidation<br />Despair and desperation<br />Then he fixed his covenant in blood<br />Now all was rich and tapestried<br />Fragrant wine to shitty mead<br />His new world opened with a claret flood<br /><br />Time was right, this wretched night<br />To etch the circles clear again...<br /><br />As a labyrinth of razors led a blind man to the stars<br />So too Prelati brought the dark<br />It's name was Barron, eyes like catastrophic tar<br />Imbibed with fire<br />They fed him shredded infants on an altar full of scars<br /><br />Entangled in a dream<br />The mirrors full of steam<br />He scarce could see Joan's face reflecting through<br /><br />His last attempt to grasp at God<br />Lay blackened in a holy fog<br />And now there were only devils to pursue<br /><br />Gilles was wrapped in a velvet spell<br />Of Hell and her seductions<br /><br />The assassinated days as a Caesar gone by<br />Barron, spitting acid, as his magical guide<br />Lit demonic pyres where once dying embers writhed<br /><br />Sweetest Maleficia
New song lyrics
He would rise triumphant<br />All done up<br />On a plume of raven wings<br />Trafficking with sycophants<br />Sharing his cup<br />Amidst other graver things<br /><br />Alchemists and sorcerers stitched his head<br />With the stench of pitch and myrrh<br /><br />The devout faded out but the pagan remained<br />The candles burnt low and still nothing came<br />Bearing golden secrets from a cold malevolent race<br /><br />He would have his demon!<br />He would have his vice!<br />All save his soul was up for sacrifice!<br />Despite their raising not a single hair<br />Everything stank of witchcraft there<br /><br />From the stained chapel to the statued lawn<br />In Caprineum on the lake<br />To the still lit crypts and the slit of dawn<br />Sliding down the towers, it all smelt fake<br /><br />He needed answers not advice<br />Intending to devise<br />A lengthy train of torture for the fool<br />Who thought a seance would suffice<br />Or sighted, furred in dragonflies<br />The signature of Satan on a wall<br /><br />Sweetest Maleficia<br /><br />Planchette to Blanchet, from ghosts to a priest<br />Returning with a spider for the poisonous feast<br />The Italian astrologer Prelati, spinning sin<br /><br />His fingertips were scented with<br />The tears from seraphim cheeks<br />Part glamour and a hammer<br />Cadaverous and glib<br />Commanding in a voice of frozen peaks<br /><br />He would have his demon!<br />He would have his gold!<br />Out of control Gilles' soul was sold<br />Under mistletoe and the glistening snow<br />Kissing in the shadow of abandoned saviours<br /><br />(From the banquet hall to the stable gates<br />A graveyard shift in tone<br />Sank upon the castle, like a papal weight<br />Or a deep philosophical stone)<br /><br />The air was sick with trepidation<br />Despair and desperation<br />Then he fixed his covenant in blood<br />Now all was rich and tapestried<br />Fragrant wine to shitty mead<br />His new world opened with a claret flood<br /><br />Time was right, this wretched night<br />To etch the circles clear again...<br /><br />As a labyrinth of razors led a blind man to the stars<br />So too Prelati brought the dark<br />It's name was Barron, eyes like catastrophic tar<br />Imbibed with fire<br />They fed him shredded infants on an altar full of scars<br /><br />Entangled in a dream<br />The mirrors full of steam<br />He scarce could see Joan's face reflecting through<br /><br />His last attempt to grasp at God<br />Lay blackened in a holy fog<br />And now there were only devils to pursue<br /><br />Gilles was wrapped in a velvet spell<br />Of Hell and her seductions<br /><br />The assassinated days as a Caesar gone by<br />Barron, spitting acid, as his magical guide<br />Lit demonic pyres where once dying embers writhed<br /><br />Sweetest Maleficia
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