The Nun With The Astral Habit - Cradle Of Filth

The world was her cloister, The Abbess Duboir

In the convent at All Hallows Fair

A pearl in an oyster she shone like a star

Augmenting her Sisterhoods prayers

Her singing touched angels and melted

Their hearts

Her choirs inspired the search

For the lost Holy Grail, the Benedict Arts

And the best of the Catholic Church

But if one thing

One precious little thing

Would darken this facade

There would be such consequences

Like the night Sister Victoria

Stepped in from the freezing cold

No candles would light at Evening Mass

The days passed by without a sigh

But dusk came thick with dread

Intangible, the air was full

Of wanderlust and approaching bloodshed

In truth, the Abbess with her pious whims

Enjoyed the new girls pain

Proof to the rest that the briars of sin

Entangled all the world in Satan’s name

Victoria Varco, once an heiress

To a proud noble estate

Fell pregnant by her recklessness

Who then fell foul to a violent fate

Such was her crime in expedient times

And the shame of besmirching her name

Her child was burnt, she was dragged to these walls

For a life in obedient chains

But not one thing

One precious little thing

Would darken this facade

Like the night Sister Victoria

Woke screaming in her room

She spent a week spiralling from heaven

And as the seasons wheezed and pined

Her dreams grew more perverse

For no good reason she would find

An alluring women naked save for jewels and verse

When her eyelids closed, on a moonlit shore

This intoxicating beauty would appear

The sweetest symphony composed

Those abating lips rose

To whisper dirty secrets in her ear

Clandestine Secrets

A dream within a dream

She finds herself this nymph

Abreast a desert dune

And below the crescent moon

Atop a darksome stranger

Ah, the spurting of his seed inside her triggers paradise

She rides the beast until the heavens tremble

Forcing eclipse, her lover licks her blood that drips down upon the sand

And almost out of hand

Coarse plots assemble

For somewhere in the convent walls

A templar treasure rests

Forgotten to the vestibules

Like pleasures of the flesh

So in return for nightly runs

Past tongues and wisdom’s hiss

She promised to assist the hunt

For and ancient golden chain amiss