Luyện nghe bài hát The Twisted Nails Of Faith

{Mirror, on the wall
Shouldest not grave be my all?
For if I shall see thy be done
Grant me the of thy tongue}

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

Alone as a stone altar
The and its keep
Like fairytale rose
A widow to the snowy
Wherein reclined the
purring from the kill

Bathed in virgin and like the night
Alive and and unfulfilled
Was it the cry of a
That broke the silver thread of enchanted
Of her as a mere reflection
As the Moon's in narrow windows
That opened like eyelids on
The of the woods that the wind fell upon

a siren weaving song
From the lilt of choking
Where the vengeful

To the sorceress and her channel
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, to sanctuary there
In nether glades tethered where onyx idols

Was it the of the mist
peopled the air with the prowess of absinthe?
Lost souls begging
From upon their forest plinths
Whose read of re-ascending to win
Remission from despair a holocaust of sin

In a tongue in invective rectums
Over signs and seals, the Sorceress
To death, to rend the slender
That ones might rise again

As shadows
The countess fell to masturbating her dagger
As the witch gabbled
heavy roses all the way to Hell
As sudden thunder harangue
Announced two worlds
bane, something came
With the of necrophiled graves
To these
Who shrank from glimpsing
the growls of mating ghouls inclined

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

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

As the demon slavered foetid
And his prey away
In talons itching to
The nausea of rape
The Sorceress in his grasp
Spat a final curse to
The Countess with the
her lord at war would be cruelly slain
And she rot alone, insane

On the twisted nails of
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