Her Ghost in the Fog - Live Cradle of Filth

The moon, she hangs like a cruel portrait
Soft winds whisper the bidding of trees
As this tragedy starts with a shattered glass heart
And the mid-nightmare trampling of dreams

But oh, no tears please
Fear and pain may accompany death
But it is desire that shepherds its certainty
As we shall see

She was divinity's creature that kissed in cold mirrors
A queen of snow, far beyond compare
Lips attuned to symmetry sought her everywhere
Dark liquored eyes, an Arabian nightmare

She shonе on watercolors of my pond life as pearl
Until thosе who couldn't have her, cut her free of this world

That fateful eve when the breeze stank of sunset and camphor
Their lanterns chased phantoms and threw
An inquisitive glance, like the shadows they cast
On my love picking rue by the light of the moon

Putting reason to flight or to death is their way
They crept through woods mesmerized
By the taffeta ley of her hips that held sway
Over all they surveyed save a mist on the rise
A deadly blessing to hide her ghost in the fog
They raped and left, five men of God, her ghost in the fog