The Persecution Song [elder Version] Lyrics - Evermore Darkly... - Cradle Of Filth

At the very start 

There were whispers in the dark 

And for all the world to see 

There was witchcraft at its heart 

And on the autumn air 

The scent of bonfires everywhere 

And a fell wind stirred the leaves 

The persecution song 

Telltale signs of possession 

Little Miss Demeanour in the demons bed 

Gasps she just could not suppress 

After lights-out midst the dead 

And a past on which sin cast its darts of wickedness 

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Time was running faster for disaster 

Strange nights were burning 

In the furnace of her dreams 

A name was uttered, Lilith 

Mistress, playmate, master 

Such sights were stolen in the throes of ecstasy 

And in the thick of all 

In the Black Goddess's thrall 

With the wood unseen for trees 

Victoria stood tall 

Promiscuous in step 

The Devil breathing down her neck 

As jealous zealots stitched apiece 

The persecution song 

Photos 

Telltale signs of possession 

Fickle Miss Demeanour hissed and disappeared 

To her Sisters of the cloth 

She now reeked of Astaroth 

Again the curse had surfaced 

Sneaking back the pagan years 

Weaving webs of great revealing 

Hidden in the convent 

An evil libido abided, undone 

Breathing, deceiving 

Feasting on her deviant feelings 

She'd clung to her crucifix 

Once her torturers begun 

Her screams came quick 

The miserichord 

Den to vice and screw 

That had reddened many tongues 

Wrung symphonies 

Of suffering from her 

Many moons hardened pure hearts 

Those plagued by her black arts 

Their rooms secreting phantom orgies 

Vile rites and rifled graves 

Mere hours, now towered 

Above this bent and beaten flower 

Her naked body privy to 

The Abbess and her ways 

Victoria fought 

No guilt was wrought 

Just a torrid retort of blasphemies 

Nails and crosses vomited forth 

From this pretty little whore now arched like Hell 

Arched like Hell 

At the very start 

There were whispers in the dark 

And for all the world to see 

There was witchcraft at its heart 

But then the end grew nigh 

A dirge inferno filled the sky 

In its customary key 

The persecution song 

Telltale signs of obsession 

No wailing banshee would dishonor their name 

Nuns dragged her to the blasted oak 

Storm-clouds threatened holy smoke 

They hanged her there like Judas 

With the Hellcat in her reined 

Time was running faster for disaster 

Exorcism, torture, gallows 

Now a shallow grave 

A name was stuttered, Isaac 

Tongue-tied, simple, bastard 

They made him dig the pit 

Mindless of what it claimed