| Gloria in excelsis Deo
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| Gloria in excelsis Deo
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| Snuffed tapers sighed
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| As Death left impressing
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| His crest of cold tears on the Countess
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| Benighted like ill-fated Usher
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| The House of Bathory shrouded
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| 'Neath grief’s dark facade
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| If only I could have wept
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| In mourning by Her side
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| I would have clasped Her so tight
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| Like storm-beached Aphrodite
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| Drowned on Kytherean tides
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| And Kissed Her
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| For from Her alone
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| My lips would have known
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| Enigmas of shadowy vistas
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| Where pleasures took flesh
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| And pain, remorseless
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| Came freezing the breath
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| Of raucous life hushed unto whispers
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| Benighted
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| Inhaling the pale waning moonlight that crept
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| Through the crypt of Her Lord who so lucidly slept
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| Benighted
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| Exhaling the wail of black widowhood’s toll
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| Waxing eternal night entered Her soul
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| Now haranguing grey skies
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| With revenge upon life
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| Gnathic and Sapphic
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| Needs begged gendercide
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| Delusions of Grandier denounced the revolt
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| Of descrying cursed glass, disenchanted in vaults
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| Encircled by glyphs midst Her sin-sistered cult
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| With hangman’s abandon She plied spiritworlds
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| To Archangels in bondage
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| From light to night hurled
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| Cast down to the earth where torment would unfurl…
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| But soon
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| Her tarot proved
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| Hybrid rumours spread like tumours
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| Would accrue
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| And blight Her stars
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| However scarred
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| To better bitter truths
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| Of cold bloodbaths
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| As bodies rose
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| In rigid droves
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| To haunt Her from their
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| Shallow burials imposed
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| When wolves exhumed
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| Their carthen wombs
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| Where heavy frosts had laboured long
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| To bare their wounds
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| To the depths of Her soul they pursued
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| Wielding their poison they flew
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| Like a murder of ravens in fugue
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| And knowing their raptures
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| Would shatter Her dreams
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| She clawed blackened books for damnation’s reprieve
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| Baneful cawed canons on amassed enemies
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| So Hallow’s Eve
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| As She received
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| Like Bellona to the ball
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| Those enemies
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| Fell-sisters heaved
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| Her torturies
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| Cross stained flagstones
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| To Her carriage reined to flee
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| But She knew She must brave the night through
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| Though fear crept a deathshead o’er the moon
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| Like a murder of ravens in Fugue
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| For each masked, jewelled gaze held dread purpose
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| Horror froze painted eyes to cold stares
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| And even Her dance
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| In the vast mirrors cast
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| Looked the I’ll of Her future
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| If fate feasted there…
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| In an age crucified by the nails of faith
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| When rank scarecrows of christ blighted lands
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| An aloof Countess born an obsidian wraith
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| Dared the abyss knowing well She was damned
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| Her life whispered grief like a funeral march
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| Twisted and yearning, obsessed an entranced
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| With those succumbing to cruelty
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| Crushed 'neath the gait of Her dance
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| A whirlwind of fire that swept through the briers
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| Of sweet rose Her thickets of black thorn had grasped…
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| She demanded the Heavens and forever to glean
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| The elixir of Youth from the pure
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| Whilst Her lesbian fantasies
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| Reamed to extremes
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| O’er decades unleashed
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| Came for blood’s silken cure
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| But Her reign ended swiftly
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| For Dark Gods dreamt too deep
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| To heed Her pleas
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| When Her gaolers were assailed
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| With condemnations from a priest
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| Who’d stammered rites
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| In the dead of night
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| For maidens staining winding sheets
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| And She postured proud
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| When Her crimes were trowelled
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| And jezebelled to peasant lips
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| Though She smelt the fires
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| That licked limbs higher
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| To the tortured cunts of accomplices
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| So ends this twisted fable’s worth
|
| And though spared the pyre’s bite
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| By dint of nobled bloodlined birth
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| Her sins (crimes) garnered Her no respite
|
| Forever severed from the thrill of coming night
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| Where slow Death alone could grant Her flight
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| «The Spirits have all but fled judgement
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| I rot, alone, insane
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| Where the forest whispers puce laments for me
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| From amidst the pine and wreathed wolfsbane
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| Beyond these walls, wherein condemned
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| To the gloom of an austere tomb
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| I pace with feral madness sent
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| Through the pale beams of a guiltless moon
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| Who, bereft of necrologies, thus
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| Commands creation over the earth
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| Whilst I resign my lips to death
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| A slow cold kiss that chides rebirth
|
| Though one last wish is bequathed by fate
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| My beauty shalt wilt, unseen
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| Save for twin black eyes that shalt come to take
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| My soul to peace or Hell for company»
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| (To peace or hell for company)
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| My soul to Hell for company |