Rise of the Pentagram - Cradle Of Filth

One dark afternoon

Like a shadow I flew

Through the rain that fell sick with lament

To this house of incest

For when we undressed

Blasphemies against Venus were rent

Though a sister removed

Her white body approved

The parade of my heavenly quests

Yet, all tongues are not true

Some are forked or askew

Like an uncivil serpent’s at best

For ousted from Eden

I fausted all reason

Hook in mouth like Saint Peter Pan

To haunt fairy groves

And hot virgin coves

Where in the promiscuous swam

I elected lovers and rejected others

Mathistrisses that don’t give a damn

But for those that still do My deep interest grew

The rise of the true pentagram!