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Rise of the pentagram

by Cradle Of Filth

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One dark afternoon
Like a shadow I flew
Through the rain that fell sick with lament

To this house of incest
For when we undressed
Blasphemies against Venus were rent

Though a sister removed
Her white body approved
The parade of my heavenly quests

Yet, all tongues are not true
Some are forked or askew
Like an uncivil serpent´s at best

For ousted from Eden
I fausted all reason
Hook in mouth like Saint Peter Pan

To haunt fairy groves
And hot virgin coves
Where in the promiscuous swam

I elected lovers and rejected others
Mathistrisses that don´t give a damn

But for those that still do
My deep interest grew
The rise of the true pentagram!
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