Like A Paralysed Snake, Charmed And Enchanted By The Babalon Whore) Led to the other worlds By the girls she curled within I took their skins to se her Be my mannequin........ Be my mannequin I cannot remember How it was that we first met Curve of the moon and haunted shore The stars were not those heaven sent Did we come together At masked palatial balls In silks and flesh and leather Or did we come at all? I dreamt a midnight castle The eerie song of wolves And eyes that danced with fire As they have forever more Our rites of sin Have long fathered a hymm To burden him Whom by slip of after-whim At genesis Dressed her like the wind In autumn gowns That pinned her down To be my mannequin Be my mannequin Always poised on winter But never would she break My lovecraft and black witch heart That pounded in her wake We kissed on distant balconies A law unto her own Thirteenth dark commandment Born in a Burial Gown 4:46 Sibilant and macabre Walpurgis sauntered in Skies litten with five-pointed stars The work of crafts surpassing sin As She graced Her window ledge - An orphaned gypsy nymph This issue of the forest's bed Skin flushed with sipped absinthe - Her eyes revealed, as Brocken's peak Tried once concealing Hell A snow white line of divine freaks In riot, where they fell... The circus lurches in, a ring of promised delight For seven days and seven festival nights What wicked wonders lie within the comfines Of the panther's den She watches from a maypole, on the rip of Her tongue The restless spirit of Christmas to come A Gretel sick of merely sucking Her thumb Than gingerbread men Spawned scorned, abhorred by the aerial She was the light of the world going down War-torn, forlorn and malarial She was found Born in a burial gown Unloosed, the chain of Her god-given cross Seduced, now pagan ribbons swathe Her repose In a carnival of souls sold and similarly lost Too many decades misfit and mislaid In innocence, a tender legend of prey Parades Her second coming, now they're running afraid Spawned scorned, abhorred by the aerial She was the light of the world going down War-torn, forlorn and malarial She was found Born in a burial gown Now She moves with a predator's guile Beyond the firelit circle of life She soothes your cold heart for a while Then matches its beat, synching in with a knife She wrestles Her dreams with a delicate case Espied by Her cross on the wall And should She awake, through embrace or mistake She would take Jesus Bless foot forward and all... Sibiliant and at last The circus crawled away With another lover in its arms Dancing on Her grave...