Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Of Dark Blood and Fucking, artist - Cradle Of Filth. Date of issue: 25.09.2002
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Of Dark Blood and Fucking |
| Sister midnight comes blaspheming |
| Screaming in the keys of faith and fear |
| Unentwining our spines twists me to kneeling… |
| Spilling like the moonlight on her glistening rear |
| Defiled at heart |
| In this perfect hell |
| Under red leaves bleeding |
| Over scaled chateau we fell |
| To demonocracy |
| Where neither Adam or Eve |
| Conceived of such iniquities |
| From pleasure or pain |
| Or the razor’s edge inbetween |
| Thou art my seventh heaven burning |
| Going down as with the sun… |
| Within like a river fluids moves a torrent |
| Bound to please |
| On denierred knees |
| In any wicked way |
| That her whims may warrant |
| I hang on every verb |
| Every dirty word |
| Interred |
| In her pornoglossa… |
| Christlike, whipped and weak |
| Painted nails driven through the meek |
| Yet in obituary |
| My dreams still weep |
| Of dark blood and f**king thee |
| Thou art seventh heaven burning |
| Going down as with the day |
| Baring lunar curvature |
| Like canvas for a lick of pain |
| Writhing like a viper |
| Deep inside her Eden |
| Forbidden to eat |
| I kiss leylines to her feet |
| Then baiting wrath |
| I steal a path |
| Back to the fruits of her womb |
| Back to the crack of her tomb… |
| Her roseate sliver |
| Quivers with snuff appeal |
| The torque of her hips |
| Lip-sync me in for the kill |
| Tongue-tied, tightrope and spread like disease |
| I drain the cup of this Miss Sire |
| Her water into wine for me |
| Thou art my seventh angel squirming |
| 'Neath the forked tongue of the beast |
| Arching toward the fabled |
| Like a sculptured nymph seeking base relief… |
| Whilst the world outside |
| (A wood of suicide) |
| Would die for this release |
| Our slow orgasmic fuses greet… |
| By night and by candle |
| At each other’s throat |
| In a slick drift of red |
| Setting god’s teeth on edge |
| We were as wolves preying inside the fold |
| Of a slaughtered lamb throw |
| On a four poster bed… |
| Succulent, Succubus |
| Laid without rest |
| In the dead of the night |
| Succulent, Succubus |
| In thy arms |
| And thy wetness |
| On glossed lips I taste |
| Conspiracies, secrecies, sorceries laced |
| With thick unguent rum |
| Black-rayed suns and Autumn |
| Always in season for our nightfall from grace |
| Gorge upon my seed |
| Starved Persephone |
| Succulent, Succubus |
| Succour me. |
| That I might keep |
| Thee with me in Hades |
| Succulent, Succubus |
| Succour me |