Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Nun With The Astral Habit, artist - Cradle Of Filth. Album song Classic Filth, in the genre
Date of issue: 01.09.2016
Record label: Peaceville
Song language: English
The Nun With The Astral Habit |
The world was her cloister, The Abbess Duboir |
In the convent at All Hallows Fair |
A pearl in an oyster she shone like a star |
Augmenting her Sisterhoods prayers |
Her singing touched angels and melted |
Their hearts |
Her choirs inspired the search |
For the lost Holy Grail, the Benedict Arts |
And the best of the Catholic Church |
But if one thing |
One precious little thing |
Would darken this facade |
There would be such consequences |
Like the night Sister Victoria |
Stepped in from the freezing cold |
No candles would light at Evening Mass |
The days passed by without a sigh |
But dusk came thick with dread |
Intangible, the air was full |
Of wanderlust and approaching bloodshed |
In truth, the Abbess with her pious whims |
Enjoyed the new girls pain |
Proof to the rest that the briars of sin |
Entangled all the world in Satan’s name |
Victoria Varco, once an heiress |
To a proud noble estate |
Fell pregnant by her recklessness |
Who then fell foul to a violent fate |
Such was her crime in expedient times |
And the shame of besmirching her name |
Her child was burnt, she was dragged to these walls |
For a life in obedient chains |
But not one thing |
One precious little thing |
Would darken this facade |
Like the night Sister Victoria |
Woke screaming in her room |
She spent a week spiralling from heaven |
And as the seasons wheezed and pined |
Her dreams grew more perverse |
For no good reason she would find |
An alluring women naked save for jewels and verse |
When her eyelids closed, on a moonlit shore |
This intoxicating beauty would appear |
The sweetest symphony composed |
Those abating lips rose |
To whisper dirty secrets in her ear |
Clandestine Secrets |
A dream within a dream |
She finds herself this nymph |
Abreast a desert dune |
And below the crescent moon |
Atop a darksome stranger |
Ah, the spurting of his seed inside her triggers paradise |
She rides the beast until the heavens tremble |
Forcing eclipse, her lover licks her blood that drips down upon the sand |
And almost out of hand |
Coarse plots assemble |
For somewhere in the convent walls |
A templar treasure rests |
Forgotten to the vestibules |
Like pleasures of the flesh |
So in return for nightly runs |
Past tongues and wisdom’s hiss |
She promised to assist the hunt |
For and ancient golden chain amiss |