Cradle Of Filth Tragic Kingdom
here sat babylon
fattened by the purses of the worst and wrong
where the decadent tastes of hell grew strong
like a curse upon
this tragic kingdom
Dusk descended like a final curtain
On this stage only death was certain
Singing through the turrets
Like a velvet serenade
Played near a grave
Sentries and gentry, afforded the bloom
Of a red setting sun and a bloodletting moon
Applauded, then accorded them
Portents of doom
Almost too soon...
They pissed upon the winds
That rocked the cradles
Laughing over the hovels grovelling to wolves
They kissed and sinned
Under overstocked tables
As the world outside grew sodden and mauled
here sat babylon
fattened by the purses of the worst and wrong
where the decadent tastes of hell grew strong
like a curse upon
this tragic kingdom
Gilles sat sipping damson absinthe
From a goblet made of bone
As lightning ripped and danced upon
The flagstones
Wayward fantasies marched on home
Now the treetops bowed to whisper
In a thin Disney veneer
They knew the howls so exquisitely honed
Were those of children disappeared
They'd listened to the winds
Heard the murdererd Abel
Re-christened in the stone jaws of Tiffauges
Where the list of sins
Grew beyond fable
They now roared abroad, restless with debauch
Restless with debauch
This tragic kingdom
Would see Gods angels walk
Away
Satanic, enigmatic
His black magic was ecstatic
Megalomanic in titanic displays
Dressed in the best
Wicked britches of the West
He cut a mourning figure in a glorious swathe
But all his nightmares would come true
Drowning in a stream of unbounded pleasure
Here sat Babylon
Fattened by the purses of the worst and wrong
Where the decadent tastes of Hell grew strong
Like a curse upon
This tragic kingdom
A curse upon
This tragic kingdom
The moon bleared through the skeletal trees
Averting her face from congenital deeds
Thus eves grew murky, haunted, grieved
About this place laced with demon seed
Blanchet, a priest, his book of lies
Exonerated him from Giles crimes
Announced his fears, one night of sighs
A night for cursing nursery rhymes
In the light of fire wrestling feckless shadows
(the tracks get blacker for this tragic kingdom)
Gilles frightening wealth, his tightening grip
On the weak and the rubies that his coffers let slip
Steered to near runin in succesive years
Of the most of excess and the best of it here
In the light of the fire wrestling reckless shadows
