Luyện nghe bài hát The Twisted Nails Of Faith

{Mirror, mirror on the
Shouldest not pleasures be my all?
For if I see thy will be done
Grant me the witchcraft of thy

Three Moon dials froze in the of six
As another passed to the grasping Styx
Clutching their trinket
Bats from caves in a dissonant surge
Omens of corruption within the church
A fetid, oasis still clung to full rebirth

Alone as a stone altar
The and its keep
Like fairytale dominion
A widow to the peaks
Wherein reclined the
Limbs purring from the

Bathed in white and like the night
and young and unfulfilled
Was it the cry of a
That the silver thread of enchanted thoughts?
Of her life as a reflection
As the in narrow windows caught
That opened dark eyelids on
The sigh of the woods that the wind fell

Like a siren song
the lilt of choirs choking
Where the vengeful

To the sorceress and her arts
She from ebony towers at the hour of Mars
'Neath a stars in woven sky latticed by
To unbind knotted that kept in canter, despair
Shod on melancholy, fleet to there
In nether glades where onyx idols stared

Was it the kiss of the
That peopled the air with the prowess of
Lost souls resurrection
From upon their forest plinths
epitaphs read of re-ascending to win
Remission from despair through a of sin

In a hilted in invective rectums
signs and seals, the Sorceress prayed
To death, to the slender veil
That ancient ones rise again

As swelled
The countess fell to masturbating her dagger
As the witch spells
Cumming heavy all the way to Hell
As sudden grew harangue
Announced two pincered
Exuding bane, came
With the stench of graves
To these
Who shrank from horror
That the of mating ghouls inclined

Resplendent, in
Natal torn from bellies of desanctified nuns
A demon, bewigged, in scum
Prowled their circle entry to run
An arctic tongue her vulva
Where smeared to alabaster thighs
Glittered like a in the purse of a whore
Receiving communion from the body of Christ

{If is what thou craves, foul fiend
I will this witch to thee
If thou wouldst draw a for me
O'er lengthening of age and grief}

As the demon slavered vows
And bore his away
In talons itching to
The of eternal rape
The screaming in his grasp
Spat a curse to stain
The Countess with the
That her at war would be cruelly slain
And she rot alone, insane

On the twisted nails of
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