Luyện nghe bài hát The Twisted Nails Of Faith

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

Three Moon froze in the shadow of six
As another passed to the grasping Styx
Clutching trinket crucifix
Bats blew from caves in a dissonant
Omens of corruption from within the
A fetid, dank still clung to full rebirth

Alone as a cold altar
The and its keep
Like fairytale dominion
A widow to the snowy
reclined the Countess
Limbs purring from the

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

a siren weaving song
From the lilt of choirs
the vengeful dead

To the and her channel arts
She from ebony towers at the hour of Mars
'Neath a stars in woven sky by scars
To unbind reins that kept in canter, despair
Shod on melancholy, to sanctuary there
In nether glades tethered onyx idols stared

Was it the of the mist
That peopled the air with the prowess of
souls begging resurrection
From gods upon their forest
Whose epitaphs read of to win
Remission from despair a holocaust of sin

In a tongue hilted in invective
Over and seals, the Sorceress prayed
To death, to rend the slender
That ancient ones might rise

As swelled
The countess fell to with her dagger
As the witch gabbled
Cumming roses all the way to Hell
As sudden grew harangue
Announced two worlds
bane, something came
With the stench of necrophiled
To these
Who shrank from glimpsing
That the growls of ghouls inclined

Resplendent, in
Natal trophies torn from bellies of nuns
A demon, bewigged, bedight in
Prowled circle seeking entry to run
An arctic tongue her vulva
Where rubies to alabaster thighs
Glittered like a contract in the purse of a
Receiving sole communion from the of Christ

{If blood is what thou craves, fiend
I will this witch to thee
If thou wouldst a veil for me
lengthening scars of age and grief}

As the demon foetid vows
And bore his prey
In talons itching to
The nausea of eternal
The Sorceress screaming in his
Spat a curse to stain
The with the promise
That her lord at war would be cruelly
And she rot alone, insane

On the twisted nails of
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