Cradle of Filth
The Night at Catafalque Manor
Lighting forked like a bifurcate tongue
Flickers on this wicked little pandemonium
Theatrical, the courted orchestra ripples
The tumult of the skies is alive and highly verbal
It plays for mass destruction
Frightening, the sight of darksome banners on the wind
Tumulus the cumulus, its drub of us begins
A galivanting army of tsunami-like decrees
Trees are edging backwards, I am lost to reverie
I wait, contemplating the fates to undress
Tonight is the night for the hands of doom to caress
This eve is enwreathed with sensation
My carriage appears like a fright through the storm
A bell from a distant church, tolling forlorn
Thrash out a tortuous path until dawn
Oh, the viciousness of this parade
The heavens have lit so exquisite a stage
I sense the stars up in arms
Their mercurial charms
Incensed by the liveried curtain
And hence my journey, pockmarked
By the Stygian dark
Is intense and delivered uncertain
This eve is in league with elation
As a gatehouse awaits in a shadowy lee
The foul tempest howls and then suddenly
Falls as silent as skulls set in lost ossuaries
Passed under the shrouded arches
The moon spills twixt clouded branches
And where it sits, the driveway branches
Fixed aslant the hill
To the foot of the Catafalque Manor
Silvered thus, it extends a glamour
Like Cinderella bared to dare enamour
My inner gothic thrilled
Exotic guests, coalesced, embark
(Espied through windows on the park)
To arrest my villainous heart
For it is amiss, yet yearning still...
I pervade the ball
And glide amidst rich animals
So beautiful, their prideful litters
Underneath chandeliers that glitters
Sanguine delights
In bright Victoriana
A Nirvana life bedights
In light of this, I commend the
Host for his regalities
A toast I thus engender
But now, in a forest of glasses raised
And gazes held
I spy a face whose spell
One would race through blazing hell for
I must confess
I came here for the game
For the scent of death
But never did I foresee heaven torn asunder
By a seraph who would steal its thunder
My ardour awakened is taken by force
I ask for a dance, a chance for discourse
She bats me a glance and love strikes like a scorpions...
[Guitar Solos: Marek Šmerda / Richard Shaw]
We play for mass corruption
She waits, contemplating her fate to address
Tonight is the night for the hands of doom to caress
This Eve is besieged by temptations
The flames in her eyes catch these mad butterflies
They burst into blossoms well-versed to imply
This girl, nonpareil, is a nymph in disguise
Oh, the viciousness of this parade
The heavens have lit so exquisite a stage
We pass through the throng
Heedless and headlong
Possessed by the gathering maelstrom
By her talents impressed
And the swell of her breast
Obsessed, I am halfway to hell gone
This Eve is enwreathed in sensation
As the tempest renews in the turbulent heights
We fake our excuses, soon to take flight
Forever to wake and remember this night
The night at Catafalque Manor