Dead Elizabeth Of Succubi In Violent Rapture
fire lay dying, hearth in the head
holy don thy veils, for more than fire lay dead
in the casket the virgins blue blood boiled red
as unmasked went the virtue on which she viciously fed
in the pews she sat somber and moral and grave
but now in the grave she sits no longer a slave
where the lord gave up hope, the dark offered much
to turn yea youthful devout into a ripe succubus
“oh reverend, be still”, she came to him cloaked in the
night
pardon my dark robes, ive such aversion to light
savior hath warned that the flesh is weak
but despite his past sermons, he darest not speak
“oh maiden, be still”, she came in as the fire
and bare bone-white skin as the maiden perspired
innocence bleeding from her erotic jade eyes
as warm crimson came flowing from her thankless cold
thighs
be men ye be mortal, and hence of ill demeanor
for my tongue is quick and my ecstasy meaner
and with that she bore daggers, under lips dark with
fancy
turned her wicked seduction on her creator and enemy
“oh heaven, be still”, she seduced the sky
and drew lust from the angels and made the omnipotent
cry
“oh lucifer, be still”, she requested of her master
turn over thy crown and I’ll turn tricks for your
rapture
undead but still parched alas she came unto me
and in heavenly sadism bestowed her gift upon me
when I arose the next eve for a bite
the truth hazed with dreams, try as I might
the scent of the dead, of the fair jezebel
who wore wings like an angel but came straight from
hell
