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 in the shadow of six
As another passed to the grasping Styx
Clutching trinket crucifix
Bats blew from caves in a surge
Omens of from within the church
A fetid, dank oasis still clung to full

Alone as a cold altar
The and its keep
Like fairytale rose
A to the snowy peaks
reclined the Countess
Limbs from the kill

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

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

To the sorceress and her channel
She swept from ebony towers at the 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 tethered where onyx idols

Was it the of the mist
That peopled the air the prowess of absinthe?
Lost souls begging
From gods upon forest plinths
Whose epitaphs of re-ascending to win
Remission despair through a holocaust of sin

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

As swelled
The countess fell to with her dagger
As the gabbled spells
Cumming roses all the way to Hell
As sudden grew harangue
Announced two worlds
Exuding bane, came
With the of necrophiled graves
To clandestines
Who from glimpsing horror
That the of mating ghouls inclined

Resplendent, in
Natal trophies torn from bellies of nuns
A demon, bewigged, bedight in
Prowled their seeking entry to run
An arctic tongue upon her
Where rubies smeared to alabaster
Glittered like a contract in the of a whore
Receiving sole communion the body of Christ

{If blood is what thou craves, fiend
I will yield this to thee
If thou wouldst a veil 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 curse to stain
The Countess with the
That her lord at war would be slain
And she would rot alone,

On the nails of faith
...