Luyện nghe bài hát Twisting Further Nails

"Mirror, mirror on the
Shouldst not grave pleasures be my
For if I see thy Will be done
Grant Me the of thy tongue"

moondials froze in the shadow of six
As soul passed to the grasping Styx
Clutching trinket crucifix
Bats blew from eaves in a surge
Omens of corruption from the church
A fetid, dank still clung to fool rebirth

as a stone cold altar
The castle and its
Like dominion rose
A widow to the peaks
Wherein reclined the
purring from the kill
Bathed in virgin white and the night
and young and unfulfilled

Was it the cry of a
broke the silver thread of enchanted thoughts?
Of Her as a mere reflection
(As the moon's in windows caught)
That opened dark eyelids on
The sigh of the woods that the fell upon

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

To the Sorceress and Her arts
She swept from ebon towers at the of Mars
'Neath a star-inwoven sky by scars
To knotted reins that kept in canter, despair
on melancholy, fleet to sanctuary there,
In netherglades tethered onyx idols stared

Was it the of the mist
That peopled the air with the of absinthe?
Lost souls begging
From Gods upon their plinths
Whose epitaphs read of to win
Remission from through a holocaust of sin

In a tongue hilted in invective
Over signs and the sorceress prayed
To Death, to the slender veil
That Ones might rise again

As swelled
The Countess
To masturbating Her dagger
As the Witch gabbled
Cumming roses all the way to Hell
As sudden grue harangue
Announced two pincered

Exuding bane, came
With the of necrophiled graves
To these
Who from glimpsing horror
That the growls of houls inclined...

In
(Natal trophies torn from of desanctified nuns)
A demons, bewinged,
In scum, prowled their circle entry to run
An tongue upon Her vulva
Where rubies to alabaster thighs
Glittered like a contract in the of a whore
Receiving sole communion from the of christ

"If blood is what thou carves, foul
I will yield witch to thee
If thou wouldst draw a for Me
O'er lengthening of age and grief"

As the Demon slavered vows
And His prey away
In itching to perpetrate
The of eternal rape
The Sorceress in His grasp
Spat a final curse to
The Countess with the
That Her lord at war be cruelly slain

And She rot.

Insane.
On the twisted of faith.