Forgive the day¡¯s
|
Last serenades
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Her skies they bruise like Nordic women
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Deep crimson stains
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That Death would claim
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His robes of office swim in
|
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As would I
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For his dark eye
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Has fixed, a basilisk, a scythe
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On charred remains
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With shared disdain
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For those I chose to mortify
|
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Their cries
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Have paralysed
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And the smoke has choked these vistas
|
But still I lie
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Though tears have dried
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On the grave of my Clarissa
|
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A verse for her whispered to the earth
|
(A lover¡¯s curse is a see-through coffin)
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Praises her curves so oft concurred
|
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Though she was¡¦
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No Snow White on the night she died
|
Her shadower¡¯s boon when the moon glazed over
|
Lipped with blood and secrets pried
|
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For on and in they spread her wide
|
That seraph bride
|
The Devil¡¯s pride
|
Shalt soon avenge with swift reprise
|
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But they would writhe
|
For my dark eye
|
Bewitched, was fixed like Mordecai¡¯s
|
On Esther¡¯s reign
|
And in this vein
|
I saw their lust still stain her thighs
|
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Their cries
|
Have paralysed
|
And the smoke has choked these vistas
|
But still I lie
|
Though tears have dried
|
On the grave of my Clarissa
|
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Beneath these trees where the mist enwreathes
|
Her spirit flees, seeing chains of torches
|
A fleeting kiss stirring leaves of poetry¡¦
|
|
I was¡¦
|
No dark knight, breaking men like ice
|
I was like a lycanthrope until the moon glazed over
|
Lipped with blood and last goodbyes
|
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Now I dream
|
Enwrapt in pure clouds of the sweetest oblivion
|
Where beauty streams
|
Freed from the teeth of those beasts that had come
|
To tear out her spells
|
In red lettered cells
|
Wherein even the crown prince of Hell
|
Come out of his arrogant shell
|
Would falter to better
|
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But her face soon dispels
|
And as black feathers fell
|
From heaven¡¯s smoke
|
So I woke to insanity
|
Her exquisite corpse
|
Found fit for their sport
|
Of course
|
Would burn on the morrow with me¡¦
|
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And there on this night
|
Strung up in my sight
|
Naked she sways
|
Displayed for their vulgar delight
|
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I scream through my bars at the stars
|
That for these crimes of mine solace me
|
I will fear not the flames
|
That to passion are tame
|
Not nearly the same searing pain
|
(I pray) As held sway upon losing her
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Nor the mettle of roars
|
That will settle like ashes and scores
|
As with our ghosts in the fog
|
When we both turn no more
|
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-----------------
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Swansong For A Raven
|
Cradle Of Filth |