Ethereal Blood - Wherever the Wolves May Howl | Текст песни

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• Ethereal Blood
• Wherever the Wolves May Howl

With somber eyes he gazed upon the pregnant evening sky,
Preparing to unleash its burden as the day began to die.
His blood ran cold to contemplate what was destined for that night,
Indoctrination into death bereft of God’s redemptive light.

“In madness gripped, my dreams of thee are perverse and impure.”
All truth be told, in fevers hold, He still desired her,
To free him from the mortal shell He’d squirmed in far too long,
And comfort him with spectral hints of sultry siren songs.

As the churchyard grew still and silent like its ancient occupants,
He anxiously paced the tombs reciting the remembered chants…

“Goddess of the night eternal hear my lonesome prayer,
Make of me thy fledgling and eternity we’ll share…”

Responding to his summoning the trees shrank back in fear.
From moonlight and unhallowed ground The Devil’s bride appeared.

The wind began to bicker, its satanic mantras spoke.
Jubilant he tried to laugh only managing to choke.
Bewitched by a cruel beauty from the yawning maw of Hell,
“What ease it was to give myself with glee into her spell.”

With years devoted did he win the treasure he had craved.
She led him by his trembling hand to stand on his own grave.

Cradled as in his mother’s arms,
He relished all her wicked charms.
When crystal goblets grazed his lips,
He took in heady dark-blood sips,
And was sung to ancient nursery rhymes,
That would ease his pain and unforgiven crimes.

Prepared to be young forever,
A predator on the prowl,
Drinking the blood of thy brothers,
From wherever the wolves may howl?

Feasting on slumbering souls,
Like a creditor on the prowl.
Meeting Mephistopheles goals,
From wherever the wolves may howl!

Be sober; be vigilant; for thy adversary The Devil walketh about as a
roaring lion seeking whom he may devour…”

Phantasmic visions form before his blurry eyes.
The cacophony of Hades sung, tumultuous longing sighs.
Inhibitions fleeing him with every plume of icy breath.
He snatched a verse from years gone by “For the wages of sin are
fucking death…”

Luciferian rites fulfilled,
Wanton sex and his blood spilled.
Abandonment and feral lust,
To become the new Prometheus.

Just a moment more and then he’d be,
A thing beyond humanity.
Whilst gathered ‘round his angels cried
O’er his encroaching suicide.

So turns the worm, in the crypt he chose to spurn.

Relinquishing his soul and gaining entrance to a sect,
Of nephilic aspirations, Even Jesus must have wept.
Thus was he sworn to an unrelenting thirst,
So embarking upon his future among the cursed.

“My favored servant do ye hear The Children of the Night?
From forest depths and mountain tops there shrieking in delight,
For thee to join their chorus, though mournful it may be.
If thy wish is to indulge then thou most prove thy utter loyalty.”

And with the tenor of a wife who yields clandestine parts,
Beguiling him to take his life, assuring him her frigid heart.
He opens up his veins and shuts the gates of Heaven tight.
The roaring wind becomes a din that offers no respite.

Saint Peter turns his head at the righteousness he lacks,
His lady’s laughter fills his head and then it all goes inky black.
She laps his watery life from the cracking tiled floor,
And barely appetized she ventures out to find some more.

…From the trappings of her coffin does our vampiress arise,
To glare with malcontent into his clouded dead moon eyes.
The acolyte a corpse who was unfit to join her creed,
She returns to the meaning of life (simply to feast and breed).

God averts indifferent eyes from that he deems as foul,
And lets The Devil reign on earth in lands Wherever The Wolves
May Howl.

Wherever The Wolves May Howl…

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