As lonely as a poet on the walls of Jericho
|
Or the moon without the comfort of the stars
|
I am loathe to know it that a man without a soul
|
Is nothing but a spilt canopic jar
|
|
I proved it, improved it
|
Drove a sonnet right through it
|
And in this state of bliss
|
Evil kissed with wet lips
|
Pen-filled fingertips
|
Which throught me, for throught me
|
Illuminati usually pissed
|
But with words of some hurts worth
|
I threw a party that extended God¡¯s list
|
|
Exciting new flames that my fame would claim for me
|
Reciting back the almanac of travesties
|
|
They call me bad
|
Mad Caliban with manners
|
Dangerous to know
|
A passing fad
|
Taught in all debauch
|
In excess and in canto
|
|
Grown wild this child
|
Whole harems defiled
|
Faustina¡¯s and Mina¡¯s
|
Lady Libertine and her sisters between her
|
|
What spread of lies arise when lovers die
|
Which circle of hell is mine when I arrive?
|
|
They call me bad
|
Mad Caliban with manners
|
Dangerous to know
|
A passing fad
|
Taught in all debauch
|
Crow against the virgin snow
|
|
Grown colder, my shoulder
|
Like a boulder beside her
|
|
And bolder, not wiser
|
My dark seed took up root inside her
|
That mouldered, where older
|
Beddings would hold a passionate sigh
|
But laudanum and soda
|
Lord Numb coda
|
Merited a forest of inherited spite
|
|
Fleeing grief for foreign maps
|
I still played vampire aristocrat
|
Unloading my gun in hot, promiscuous laps
|
|
Then shooting swans in a gondola
|
I tripped my foot on a fallen star
|
And there¡¯s nothing like a mouthful of Venetian tar
|
To let you know just who you fucking are
|
|
The patron saint of heartache
|
Can't see world is falling, the world is falling down
|
|
Ever after, can they hear my laughter?
|
|
The patron saint of heartache
|
|
Never craft a better bed of disaster...
|
|
The patron saint of heartache
|
|
They call me bad
|
Mad Caliban with manners
|
Dangerous to know
|
A passing fad
|
Taught in all debauch
|
In excess and in canto
|
|
They call me bad
|
Mad Caliban with manners
|
Dangerous to know
|
A passing fad
|
Whereupon I tell them
|
To go fuck their mothers
|
As so¡¦
|
On my grave
|
|
-----------------
|
The Byronic Man
|
Cradle Of Filth |