Funeral Bitch

The little bell echoes
The great bell groans
This templed city of tombs
Where death and grief blooms
Fiendish desires in human form, leather clad
Black is the veil, streaming in the wind
Stiletto heels clicking up the cemetery gates
Death among the dead, haunting mausoleums
All this death, oh, joyful sight
Naked on a table of stone
Juices dripping from the wet chaste
Excitement of fear and death,
It’s to me so dear
Funeral bitch, the urge is so strong
Funeral bitch, the night is so long
Death life, life as dead and the sharpness of the shrieks
The licking tongues of fire, lustful and crushing
«I love, pale Beauty, how the shadows mass beneath the arches of your brow;
Black as they are, those eyes of yours inspire anything but funeral thoughts-»
Funeral bitch, the urge is so strong
Funeral bitch, the night is so long, is so long
«For it is written: the inhabitants of the Earth have been made drunk with her
blood. And I saw her sent upon a hairy beast and she held forth a golden
chalice full of the (filthiness) of fornications. And upon her forehead was
written: 'Behold I am the great mother of harlots and all abominations of the
Earth.'»