Текст песни Thirteen Autumns and a Widow (Remixed and Remastered) - Cradle of Filth

Spawned wanton like blight on an auspicious night,
Her eyes betrayed spells of the moon's eerie light.
A disquieting gaze forever ghosting far seas.
Bled white and dead, her true mother was fed,
To the ravenous wolves that the elements led,
From crag-jagged mountains that seemingly grew in unease.
Through the maw of the woods, a black carriage was drawn,
Flanked by barbed lightning that hissed of the storm.
Gilded in crests of carpathian breed!
Bringing slaves to the sodomite for the new-born.
On that eve when the countess' own came deformed,
A tragedy crept to the name Bathory!
Elizabeth christened, no paler a rose,
Grew so dark as this sylph, none more cold in repose.
Yet her beauty spun webs 'round hearts a glance would betroth.
She feared the light!
So when she fell like a sinner to vice,
Under austere, puritanical rule,
She sacrificed!
Mandragora like virgins to rats in the wall,
But after whipangels licked prisoners, thralled.
Never were Her dreams so maniacally cruel,
And possessed of such delights!
For ravens winged Her nightly flights of erotica.
Half spurned from the pulpit, torments to occur.
Half learnt from the cabal of demons in her.
Her walk went to voodoo to see her own shadow adored.
At mass without flaw, though inwards she abhored.
Not her coven of suitors, but the stare of their Lord.
I must avert mine eyes to hymns,
For his gaze brings dogmas to my skin.
He knows that I dreamt of carnal rites,
With him undead for three long nights.
Elizabeth listened, no sermons intoned.
Dragged such guilt to her door,
Tombed her soul with such stone.
For she swore the priest sighed,
When she knelt down to atone.
She feared the light!
So when she fell like a sinner to vice,
Under austere, puritanical rule,
She sacrificed!
Her decorum as chaste to this wolf of the cloth,
Pouncing to haunt her confessional box.
Forgiveness would come when her sins were washed off,
By rebaptism in white.
The looking glass cast Belladonna wreaths,
Upon the grave of her innocence.
Her hidden face spat murder,
From a whisper to a scream.
All sleep seemed cursed in faustian verse.
But there in orgiastic Hell no horrors were worse,
Than the mirrored revelation.
Then She kissed the Devil's phallus by her own decree.
So with windows flung wide to the menstrual sky.
Solstice eve, she fled the castle in secret.
A daughter of the storm, astride her favourite nightmare,
On winds without prayer.
Stigmata still wept between her legs.
A cold bloodedness which impressed new hatreds.
She sought the sorceress,
Through the snow and dank woods to the sodomite's lair.
Nine twisted fates threw hewn bone die,
For the throat of Elizabeth.
Damnation won and urged the moon,
In soliloquy to gleam.
Twixt the trees in shafts to ghost a path.
Past the howl of buggered nymphs in the sodomite's grasp.
To the forest's vulva,
Where the witch scholared her,
In even darker themes.
Amongst philtres and melissas,
Midst the grease of strangled men,
And eldritch truths, elder ill-omen,
Elizabeth came to life again.
And under lacerations of dawn,
She returned like a flame unto a deathshead,
With a promise to burn.
Secrets brooded as she rode,
Through mist and marsh to where they showed,
Her castle walls wherein the restless,
Counted carrion crows.
She awoke from a fable to mourning,
Church bells wringing her madly from sleep.
Tolled by a priest, self castrated and hung,
Like a crimson bat 'neath the belfry.
The biblical prattled their mantras,
Hexes six-tripled their fees.
But Elizabeth laughed, thirteen autumns had passed,
And she was a widow from God and his wrath, finally.