The Nun With The Astral Habit

The world was her cloister, the abbess Duboir In the convent at All Hallows fair A pearl in an oyster she shone like a star Augmenting her sisterhoods prayers Her singing touched Angels and melted their hearts her choirs inspired the search For the lost holy grail, the Benedict arts And the best of the Catholic Church But if one thing One precious little thing Would darken this facade There would be such consequences Like the night Sister Victoria Stepped in from the freezing cold No candles would light at Evening Mass The days passed by without a sigh But dusk came thick with dread Intangible, the air was full Of wanderlust and approaching bloodshed In truth, the Abbess with her pious whims Enjoyed the new girl's pain Proof to the rest tat the briars of sin Entangled all the world in Satan's name Victoria Varco, once heiress To a proud noble estate Fell pregnant by her recklessness Who then fell foul to a violent fate Such was here cime in expedient times And the shame of besmirching her name Her child was burnt, she was dragged to these walls For a life in obedient chains But not one thing One precious little thing Would darken this facade Like the night Sister Victoria Woke screaming in her room She spent a week spiralling from heaven And as the seasons wheezed and pained Her dream grew more perverse For no good reasons she would to find An alluring woman naked save for jewels and verse When here eyelids close, on a moonlit shore This intoxicating beauty would appear The sweetest symphony composed Those abating lips rose Tho whisper dirty secrets in her ear Clandestine secrets A dream within a dream She finds herself this nymph Abreast a desert dune And below the crescent moon Atop a darksome stranger Ah, the spurting of his seed inside here Triggers paradise She rides the beast until the heavens trembled Forcing eclipse, her lover licks her blood That drips upon the sand And almost out of hand Coarse plots assemble For somewhere in the convent walls A templar treasure rests Forgotten to the vestibules Like pleasures of the flesh So, in return for nightly runs Past tongues and wisdom's hiss She promised to assist the hunt for an ancient golden chain amiss --- The Nun with the Astral Habit - Cradle of Filth