Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Beyond Eleventh Hour, artist - Cradle Of Filth. Album song Classic Filth, in the genre
Date of issue: 01.09.2016
Record label: Peaceville
Song language: English
Beyond Eleventh Hour |
«All mirrors lead to my palace |
My exotic pleasure temple |
Wherein my court is both gracious and insatiable |
Pure and obscene |
For where pumps the true heart of life |
There too seeps corruption |
And from this my new Eden of nightshades, black |
Henbane, sphinxes |
Opium and roses weaned on tears and blood |
Will rise up like lust |
And the shadow of my dark consort shalt extend |
Himself across the face of the world… |
…And Hell will come with Him" |
Part of the garden, her dark Eden |
Fed blood by poisoned fronds |
My heart hardened in her wet season |
Treading mud in her slough of despond |
But only now |
A path lies straight before me |
The maze is ploughed half through with hate |
And her crop is dripping red |
Beyond eleventh hour |
Her beauty and brute power |
Grows stronger by the day |
And with each rose that she deflowers |
The longer her throes of madness stay |
In her grip on shredded sheets |
Once our fingertips had dug and clutched |
She whispered dreadful things to me |
She wanted war with God |
The underdog baring sharpened teeth |
With her armies raised from suffering |
To ascend on jet black wings |
She’d break off holy limbs |
On the racks of her witch hunt |
And crush the church beneath her heel |
The Pope in homage to her cunt |
A dark horse forcing nightmares |
To wring submissives dry |
A vampire madam batterfang |
With vicious streaks a mile wide |
Beyond eleventh hour |
Her kiss has turned dismissive |
Her glance holds slight contempt |
Instead those eyes burn on the prize |
Of fates she really likes to tempt |
In her grip on shredded sheets |
Gasping from conquered peaks of passion |
She whispered dreadful things to me |
She wanted war with God |
The underdog baring sharpened teeth |
With her armies raised from suffering |
To ascend on jet black wings |
She’d tear down mighty spires |
Then rear them up anew |
Orders forged to her desires |
The eleventh hour nearly through |
Lilith, the abyss, the slithering mists |
That cause all souls to stray |
How to resist those seductive gifts |
On the shore of her unholy ways? |
She calls my name so softly |
From deep banks of scented fog |
I almost lose myself before it starts |
But my spirit keeps its silence |
As I drift across the lake |
A glimpse of harem secrets |
Now her velvet curtain parts |
She is glaring like the moon |
The wind dies down. |
eavesdropping |
As I bow before her throne |
And she descends to greet me |
Like the royal bitch to which shes grown |
«Come closer, what have you to say? |
Black cat got your tongue? |
«I am not your slave |
Nor are you my saviour» |
«But Isaac, I’m the only one…» |
I hold those cold deceiving eyes |
Her once hypnotic gaze |
And pledge eternal love. |
then walk away |
Thunder seethes behind me |
Death adjusts her favourite mask |
Another lover smothered by her sanguinary darkness |
Clasped in the garden, here you heard |
This story blustered through |
I asked her pardon, swore my word |
I’d score her sweetmeats just like you |
For only now |
The truth lies prone before me |
I couldn’t leave her even if she stormed |
The heavens as were promised |
Beyond eleventh hour |
Lilith, the abyss. |
the slithering mists |
Will come for you this eve |
Lustrous the cusp of her lingering tryst |
Before those fatal kisses bleed |
Beyond eleventh hour |
She will make of you a plaything |
Scant amusement for her bed |
And when naked flesh forgets to sing |
She’ll take your fucking soul instead |
Midnight strikes, the candles sputter |
Muttering their reeking spells |
I snuff their tongues, my heart a-flutter |
These words I speak are gates to Hell |