Luyện nghe bài hát Twisting Further Nails

"Mirror, mirror on the
Shouldst not pleasures be my all?
For if I shall see thy Will be
Me the Witchcraft of thy tongue"

Three moondials in the shadow of six
As another soul passed to the Styx
Clutching trinket crucifix
Bats blew eaves in a dissonant surge
Omens of corruption within the church
A fetid, dank oasis still clung to rebirth

Alone as a stone cold
The castle and its
Like faerytale dominion
A to the snow peaks
reclined the Countess
Limbs purring the kill
in virgin white 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 reflection
(As the moon's in narrow caught)
That opened dark eyelids on
The sigh of the woods the wind fell upon

Like a weaving song
the lilt of choirs choking
Where the dead
Belong...

To the and Her charnel arts
She swept from ebon towers at the hour of
'Neath a star-inwoven sky latticed by
To unbind knotted that kept in canter, despair
on melancholy, fleet to sanctuary there,
In netherglades tethered where onyx stared

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

In a tongue hilted in rectums
Over signs and seals the prayed
To Death, to the slender veil
Ancient Ones might rise again

As swelled
The fell
To masturbating with Her
As the Witch gabbled
Cumming heavy roses all the way to
As sudden thunder's harangue
two pincered worlds

Exuding bane, something
With the stench of graves
To these
Who shrank glimpsing horror
That the growls of houls inclined...

In
(Natal trophies from bellies of desanctified nuns)
A demons, bewinged,
In scum, prowled their seeking entry to run
An arctic upon Her vulva
Where rubies smeared to thighs
Glittered a contract in the purse of a whore
Receiving sole communion from the of christ

"If blood is what carves, foul fiend
I yield this witch to thee
If wouldst draw a veil for Me
O'er scars of age and grief"

As the Demon slavered foetid
And His prey away
In talons to perpetrate
The of eternal rape
The screaming in His grasp
Spat a curse to stain
The with the promise
Her lord at war would be cruelly slain

And She rot.

Insane.
On the nails of faith.