The Byronic Man Lyrics - Thornography - Cradle Of Filth

As lonely as a poet on the walls of Jericho 

Or the moon without the comfort of the stars 

I am loathe to know it that a man without a soul 

Is nothing but a spilled canopic jar 

I proved it 

Improved it 

Drove a sonnet 

Right through it 

And in this state of bliss 

Evil kissed with wet lips 

Pen-filled Fingertips 

Which through me 

For through me 

Illuminati usually pissed 

But with words of some hurts worth 

I threw a party that extended God's list 

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Exciting new flames that my fame would claim for me 

Reciting back the almanac of travesties 

They call me bad 

Mad Caliban with manners 

Dangerous to know 

A passing fad 

Taught in all debauch 

In excess and in canto 

Grown wild 

This child 

Whole harems defiled 

Faustina's and Mina's 

Lady Libertine and her sisters between her 

What spread of lies arise when lovers die 

Which circle of hell is mine when I arrive 

Photos 

They call me bad 

Mad Caliban with manners 

Dangerous to know 

A passing fad 

Taught in all debauch 

Crow against the virgin snow 

Grown colder, my shoulder 

Like a boulder beside her 

And bolder, not wiser 

My dark seed took up root inside her 

That mouldered, where older 

Beddings would hold a passionate sigh 

But Laudanum and soda 

Lord Numb coda 

Merited a forest of inherited spite 

Fleeing grief for foreign maps 

I still played vampire aristocrat 

Unloading my gun in hot, promiscuous laps 

Then shooting swans in a gondola 

I tripped my foot on a fallen star 

And there's nothing like a mouthful of Venetian tar 

To let you know just who you fucking are 

[Ville] 

The patron saint of heartache 

I can't see my world is falling 

The world is falling down 

The patron saint of heartache 

I Can't see my world is falling 

The world is falling down 

[Dani] 

Everafter can they hear my laughter 

[Ville] 

The patron saint of heartache 

[Dani] 

Never craft a better bed of disaster 

[Ville] 

The Patron saint of heartache 

They call me bad 

Mad Caliban with manners 

Dangerous to know 

A passing fad 

Taught in all debauch 

In excess and in canto 

They call me bad 

Mad Caliban with manners 

Dangerous to know 

A passing fad 

Whereupon I tell them 

To go fuck their mothers 

As so.... 

On my grave