Beyond Eleventh Hour Cradle of Filth

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"All mirrors lead to my palace
My exotic pleasure temple
Wherein my court is both gracious and insatiable
Pure and obscene
For where pumps the true heart of life
There too seeps corruption
And from this my new Eden of nightshades, black
Henbane, sphinxes
Opium and roses weaned on tears and blood
Will rise up like lust
And the shadow of my dark consort shall extend
Himself across the face of the world
And Hell will come with Him"

Part of the garden, her dark Eden
Fed blood by poisoned fronds
My heart hardened in her wet season
Treading mud in her slough of despond
But only now
A path lies straight before me
The maze is ploughed half through with hate
And her crop is dripping red

Beyond eleventh hour

Her beauty and brute power
Grows stronger by the day
And with each rose that she deflowers
The longer her throes of madness stay