Luyện nghe bài hát Saffron's Curse

Through where shimmering snowfall
Lay in state with the sad and
A lament barely flung above a whisper
me like a ghost to the haunts of man

I found her tempting fate between her wrist and
A spirit in a graveyard
Beneath the stature of a Saviour
Mist hung like thieves wreathed in scant
And through the chill it bedwed her drawling breast
Like a dream true under etched glass spent
Making love to the beautiful

She has sinned and severed
And in its sight
Two figures writhe, but one
Extends its fingers to the

Gothic tottered on her heels
As she asylum grounds
Committing crimes to soft cells
now another's screams resound

From the gaspings in her
Six feet under or frayed gown
her hands pointed to midnight
In a stained chamber bound

I swept her from the of another dementia
Freeing her soul the fetters of fate
To the reins of pleasure
Now wane mirrors freeze in seizure
At the glimpse of charmed in her thighs
filled with black cats scratch
Out of spite and playful

Pricked as a her stitches itch
For familiar to lick them dry
Whilst the regrasps, for if she asks
The sun forsakes the rite to

And is the first to discern, that this angel's
Is a call on grace
For even martyrdom backs from suicide pacts
A leap of fate betrayed

The scars will last the stars
Caught in her bewitched
into line and yield the sign
That in born to their eclipse

For our in
Comes an day sunrise
Rippling with fire like female

Wind the flame, I gazed out
Tapped into the fog and her pain
in her mind she sought his leave
And forgiveness

I splintered her and lie on the floor
Of a vault with her clasped as the moon hugs the
treachery this that she breathed no more?
Christ you

I wished her back but the adored her
Even wild winds in chora for her
Saffron my heart, from the start I swore
We'd be together

Creation froze with the triumph of
But still she and awoke bereft
Of concern save for the aeons
To the darkness

She schemes of growing power and the lengths sucked to get it
I dream of being God but ever living to it
Our fecund nature decrees that Jesus wept for
The on her knees

To her lows a remedy
And desire's wish
To taste thereof of scent
As and twisted as it is

For her corset laced arsenic
snake curves within her midst
Whilst her halo of lies supplies
Her to what God forbids