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Born In A Burial - Cradle of Filth
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Born In A Burial Cradle of Filth

Born In A Burial - Cradle of Filth
Sibilant and macabre
Walpurgis sauntered in
Skies lighten with five-pointed stars
The work of crafts surpassing sin

As she graced her window ledge
An orphaned gypsy nymph
This issue of the forest's bed
Skin flushed with sipped absinthe

Her eyes revealed, as Brocken's peak
Tried once concealing Hell
A snow white line of divine freaks
In riot where they fell

The circus lurches in a ring of promised delight
For seven days and seven festival nights
What wicked wonders lie within the confines
Of the panther's den

She watches from a maypole on the rip of her tongue
The restless spirit of Christmas to come
A Gretel sick of merely sucking her thumb
Than gingerbread men

Spawned, scorned, abhorred by the aerial
She was the light of the world going down
War-torn, forlorn and malarial
She was found born in a burial gown
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