Lyrics:

Like a clockwork ChristBears sore stigmata, boredAnd as I threw Job, I droveMyself to a martyred wretchTo see if I drew pityOr pretty litanies from the LordSo the plot sickenedWith the coming of daysIll millennia thickenedWith the claret I sprayedAnd though they saw redI left a dirty white stainA splintered knot in the grainOn Eden's martial aidSo glad for the madnessI walked the walls naked to the moonIn Sodom and BabylonAnd through rich whores and corridorsOf the VaticanI led a sordid Borgia onI read the Urilia textSo that mortals wormedAs livebait for the deadAnd as I broke hope, I chokedAnother Pope with manna peelDictation to DeSadeIn the dark entrails of the BastilleAnd as He wrote, I smoteA royal blow to the heads of FranceAnd in the sheen of guillotinesI saw others, fallen, danceI was an incurableNecromantic old foolA phagadaena that crawledDrooling over the pastA rabid wolf in a shawlA razor's edge to the ruleThat the stars overallWere never destined to lastSo glad for the madnessI furnaced dreams, a poet, foe of sleepTurning sermons with the smellOn Witchfinder fingersWhere bad memories lingeredBurning, as when DanteWas freed to map HellI sired schemes and the meansTo catch sight of the seamsAnd the vagaries inbetween...And midst the lips and the curlsOf this cunt of a worldIn glimpses I would seeA nymph with eyes for meEyes of fire that set all life aflameLights that surpassed artIn sight, that no intense device of painCould prise their secrets from my heartI knew not Her nameThough her kiss was the sameWithout a whisper of shameAs either Virtue or Sin'sAnd pressed to Her curveI felt my destiny swerveFrom damnation reservedTo a permanent grin...So glad for the madness
Cradle Of Filth Babalon A.d.