Queen of Winter, Throned Cradle of Filth

Even a man who is pure in the heart
And speaks in prayer by night
May become a wolf when the wolf's bane bloom
And the winter moon is bright

Listen to them
The children of the night
What sweet music they make

Iniquitous
I share Carmilla's mask
A gaunt mephitic voyeur
On the black side of the glass
Peering through the mirror
Deep dark and ominous
Consorting themes, demons I weave
Subservience from thee to lost

I am Corinthian light
A snake in flowers by night
The last temptation of Christ
Evil in mortal

Disguise the guilt
Sharp-eyed, impassive whore
Burn the asafoetida
And rank petriachor
Lure me panthered Faustia
With cunt and veiled womb
To prowl thy inner sanctum walls
In Tirgoviste to resume
Control
Control
Yeah