Black Smoke Curling from the Lips of War

Cradle of FilthCradle of Filth 

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Cradle of Filth

Cradle of Filth are an English extreme metal band that formed in Suffolk in 1991. The band's musical style evolved from black metal to a cleaner and more "produced" amalgam of gothic metal, symphonic black metal and other extreme metal styles. Their lyrical themes and imagery are heavily influenced by gothic literature, poetry, mythology and horror films. more »

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Drunk on the wine of her mass fornication
She sits astride turbulent seas
Her poisoned cunt harbour to deep fascination
Nations in thrall to the
Great Harlot Babylon

She is desire
Free, swathed in dark ecstasies
She will not tire
Bathe in her fire
The Great Harlot Babylon

I have loved her stars too deliciously
To be fearful of the consequences

Judgements, hellbent
On vengeful wing
Descend to swell her cemeteries

Her orchids unfurl as bureaucracy moulders
Sweet opiates further the dream
The fate of the world on her silk-caressed shoulders
Scarlet this woman
The Great Harlot Babylon

She breeds acceptance
Of greed and hypocrisy
Decreed is the sentence
Her prophetic downfall
Unheeded by everyone

I have drunk of her fruits too viciously
To turn my face from her desecration

From foreign shores come the claws to rend her
To burn it all, this opulent splendour
And cast her down in naked surrender
Back to the spurn of The Fall

The sins of the earth
Have spread out her vines

Eastern at birth
Now she westers the vespertine
Festers and shines there

The scent of her fragrances hung like a noose
Upon Edenʼs forbidden tree
The Mother Of Exile, beguiling and loose
Tongued like a serpent
The Great Harlot Babylon

She is desire
Free, swathed in grave liberties
She will not tire
Bathe in her fire
The Great Harlot Babylon

Her putrescence blazes
Deep Mystery Babylon

And though the skies
In tumult, agonise
She still swaggers in the shadow
Of the towers aimed at God

Black smoke curling from the lips of warfare
Black smoke curling from the lips of war

See! False cathedral
She feeds this evil
Regime with the faecal
So flee from her, people
For freed, the primeval
Will bleed her steeples dry in every way

Idolatress, Ishtar, mistress
Shalt suffer a painful, shameful death
Her soul disgorged…

And then be left with nothingness

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