Mirror, mirror on the wall   Shouldst not grave pleasures be my all?   For if I shall see thy will be done   Grant me the Witchcraft of thy tongue      Three moondials froze in the shadow of six   As another soul passed to the grasping styx   Clutching their trinket crucifix   Bats blew from eaves in a dissonant surge   Omens of corruption from within the church   A fetid, dank oasis still clung to fool rebirth      Alone as a stone cold altar   The castle and its keep   Like faerytale dominion rose   A widow to the snow peaks   Wherein reclined the Countess   Limbs purring from the kill   Bathed in virgin white and like the night   Alive and young and unfulfilled      Was it the cry of a wolf   That broke the silver thread of enchanted thoughts?   Of Her life as a mere reflection   As the moon's in narrow windows caught   That opened like dark eyelids on   The sigh of the woods that the wind fell upon      Like a Siren weaving song   From the lilt of choirs choking   Where the vengeful dead   Belong...      To the Sorceress and her charnel arts   She swept from ebon towers at the hour of Mars   'Neath a star-inwoven sky latticed by scars   To unbind knotted reins that kept in canter, despair   Shod on melancholy, fleet to sanctuary there   In netherglades tethered where onyx idols stared      Was it the kiss of the mist   That peopled the air with the prowess of absinthe?   Lost souls begging resurrection   From Gods upon their forest plinths   Whose epitaphs read of re-ascending to win   Remission from despair through a holocaust of sin      In a tongue hilted in invective rectums   Over signs and seals the sorceress prayed   To Death, to rend the slender veil   That Ancient Ones might rise again      As shadows swelled   The Countess fell   To masturbating with her dagger   As the Witch gabbled spells   Cumming heavy roses all the way to Hell   As sudden thunder's grue harangue   Announced two pincered worlds      Exuding bane, something came   With the stench of necrophiled graves   To these clandestines   Who shrank from glimpsing horror   That the growls of mating ghouls inclined      Resplendent   In pendants   Natal trophies torn from bellies of desanctified nuns   A demons, bewinged, bedight   In scum, prowled their circle seeking entry to run   An arctic tongue upon her vulva   Where rubies smeared to alabaster thighs   Glittered like a contract in the purse of a whore   Receiving sole communion from the body of Christ      If blood is what thou carves, foul fiend   I will yield this witch to thee   If thou wouldst draw a veil for me   O'er lengthening scars of age and grief      As the Demon slavered foetid vows   And bore his prey away   In talons itching to perpetrate   The nausea of eternal rape   The Sorceress screaming in his grasp   Spat a final curse to stain   The Countess with the promise   That her Lord at war would be cruelly slain      And she would rot alone   Insane   On the twisted nails of faith   On the twisted nails of faith   On the twisted nails of faith