The evening air laps thick about   The stagnant moat that Tiffuages claims   As dusk now slips away   Where taught to run, the rotten tongue   Of a hotter Götterdämerung   Has started licking like a flame      Whispers in the dismal mist   Are full of crystal promises      Black rites begun in earnest   Ignite Hell's hungry furnace      Behold the bold inauguration of the darkside   Demonic passions climbing   Ill-fated stars aligning      Tonight these sights are guaranteed to feed the master   The tide of blood is rising   His gifts will be providing      Unmasked, the phantom lord De Rais   Haunts the furthest tower   Wherein death has sucked the hour      There, throttled gasps tantamount for foreplay   And drooling razors next to come   Unspool red secrets from the young      The moon grinned full, the games were chaste   When the children first arrived   Now midnight shadows crawl apace   To darken council with their lives      Flesh and ecstasy as sport   Are immortal vices of the highest order   Wherein devilry holds sway   Behold blind walls where these cockatrice squalled   Their songs of Necronomicon   Spoke out of Gilles De Rais      Each murdered son, each frozen rose   Handpicked, was gently fed   To the sumptuous one in black and those   Whose lives where thrown in with the dead      The candles lit, the stage was set   As it was in sainted days   When censers swung and banners hung   On the Siege of Orleans on the painted Seine      Now the castle floats in the drifting fog   Torn from it's moorings   Like a shipwreck dredged from Hell   As innocents entreat a shiffing God   Their voices soaring   On a silver tide to heaven   On a knife edge as they fell      The blade would plunge in virulent arcs   Such wounds would stretch away   By the fireside, warmed to creative sparks   Of the monster Gilles De Rais      Gilded Gilles De Rais      Comets vomited   The restless bells of crime   Peeled black skin from broken bones   Of angels cut from the nicks of time      Festering faces with painted eyes   The prettiest kept to be thrust inside   Gaping necromantic from the mantle-side   Caked in kissed goodbyes      Days faded in decay   The stench of perfume lied   No horror in the glades of man   Was left for Barrom to provide      So unique was the beat of his poisoned heart   And it's sordid, morbid crack   No further atrocity could possibly surpass   Unrewarded, bored, he turned his burning back