Here sat Babylon. Fattened by the purses of the worst and wrong. Where the decadent tastes of Hell grew strong. Like a curse upon. This tragic kingdom.
Poets racking absinthed brains. Could never fully paint these nights. No martyr parting from his pain. Could utter words so erudite. As those she now divulged to me.
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.
Where will you be they tense for warfare?. What will you see with your innocence there?. Where will you be my darling?. Where will you be they tense for warfare?.
I am she. Lilith. Mistress of the dark. Of Sheba. First offender. And succor to demons. Whose sweet seductions and wicked rites. Lead all too enslaved by the flesh.