Текст песни Cradle Of Filth - Hammer Of The Witches

Текст:

Hammer Of The Witches Breastfed red dementias Familiar with their suckled hostess Unhinge her bridle scold A quest for misadventure Wrests her glare of buckled gnosis From bloodstained floor to holy centrefold Death is tensing to explode Inquisitioners sought her Scenting the bent in her veins Stripped and readied for torture Enslaved to shame The fist of humanity taught her Scissors and spiked tourniquet Dionysian daughter Pressed to confess from the pain I say, "Toll the demon bell The rotting hearts of Man Shall light the path from Hell." Vestal desecrators Familiar with her secret ewers Soon tied to licking flame Rest their 'tests' for later As sweet revenge from reeking sewers Uncoils and slides amidst this unfair game A Storm is rolling in Unleash the fucking curse... Striking unbiblical chords that roar Invoke raw branded skies As forked lightning feeds the hordes of war Her broken hands revive Calling the fallen Crawling from the shadows of God Now their fables turn, blind faith learns Papal sermons oft have lied Save that the coven the Black Goat governs Is very much wide-eyed, alive She summons proof On virulent wings, a plague is coming Cuntfire-hoofed From mating with the Devil On the torch-lit Brocken Baphometic by design A penchant vent for vengeance Cut deep by horrors fought Those dungeon-screams for mercy Shalt keep for everybody Nine circles down they heard her Ten times the hecatomb A thousand souls for those church-murdered Dark ken align to render doom Their punishment overdue For sisters, missed, once powerless Tongues torn out by the root Fell whispers rose to a seething congress Of spirits born for Death's pursuit Never a dusk so drunk on lust Caressed the cobbles red Frights she called, the flights of Ghouls Left little of their brittle flesh Judgment night descended Like the bonfire's fall of ashes Inquisitioners slaughtered Venting the dent in her brain Stripped and readied, debauchers Prepared to stain The gist of humanity taught her Intolerance, murder in vein Dionysian daugher Soon to deliver the pain I say, "Toll the demon bell The rotting hearts of Man Shall beat the path to Hell." And refreshed of this dementia Their thumbscrews, Pears and cruel whiplashes She turns her craft To the next fat sacred grove

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