Monday 22 November 2010

Lyraical Abortions Pt.3

Here's a song kind of based upon the old archetypal myth of the Vampiric siren, The Countess Bathory figure, stealing the life essence of those men who seek her to prolong her own unnatural life. So, a lovely, dark, gothic horror tale!

Upon night’s descent
I stole away
To see her beauty
To glimpse her face
Legends spoke
Of her countenance
Her milky skin
Her silken tress

Oh my Lady, I bow to thee
Thy love I crave
Thy great beauty
Oh my Lady, I dream of thee
On fevered nights
In reverie

Long I sought her
Desperately
With haunted thoughts
She burned in me
Of “The cruel siren”
I was told tales
Warned to desist
Lest I fall prey

The Siren called to me
In my dreaming mind
“Find me, my dearest”
She spoke to me
“And I will pledge my love to thee”
Years have passed in ceaseless search
Yet the siren still eludes me

At last I found her
Waiting for me
“thy life is mine
To satiate me”
Her terrible face
Gorgeous, cold
I will never forget
It haunts my soul

That day I died
Killed by the Siren’s darkened love
She stole my life
To prolong her own

Fed upon the souls
Of those who sought her hand
Immortal rites
Forever slaying…

No comments:

Post a Comment