Lyrics Cradle of Filth

Cradle of Filth

The Dying of the Embers

Bloodstains, not rose petals lie on the path

To the gluttonous bed of the whore

For she, who is Satan, the waiting bloodbath

Is preparing her nation's for war

For war!

Anthropogenic

Dark angels wring

The fabric of life free of tears

Choking black fronds

From the censers they bring

Encircle as Apocalypse nears

Midnight is the phase

Seismic second waves

End of final days near

Sorrowed Holocene

Blackened back to clean

Like Man has never been here

Nothing but burnt

Skies ever learnt

The fate of that terrible game

It is not this stirred circus

Strength that deserts us

Fires that hurt us

But the dying of the embers

That murders all hope for the flame

For the ghost of humanity to rise once again

Unsympathetic judgement descends

Nine billion souls under heel

Storm-clouds ablaze, razors slice through the ends

Of the Earth, with insatiable zeal

Midnight is the phase

Seismic second waves

End of final days near

Sorrowed Holocene

Blackened back to clean

Like Man has never been here

Nothing but burnt skies ever learnt

The fate of that terrible game

It is not this stirred circus

Strength that deserts us

Fires that hurt us, that brings on the pain

Nothing but burnt

Skies ever learnt

The fate of that terrible game

It is not this stirred circus

Strength that deserts us

Fires that hurt us

But the dying of the embers

That murders all hope for the flame

Our lengthening reach went astray

Ignoring the laws of our brittle existence, the universe clawed

And tore it away

Life is a dream

In an endless charade

Armageddon deadens (Armageddon deadens)

(Armageddon deadens, Armageddon deadens)

History warned us but we chose to pray

We murdered all hope for the flame

For the ghost of humanity to rise once again

Nothing but burnt

Skies ever learnt

The fate of that terrible game

It is not this stirred circus

Strength that deserts us

Fires that hurt us, that brings on the pain

Nothing but burnt

Skies ever learnt

The fate of that terrible game

It is not this stirred circus

Strength that deserts us

Fires that hurt us

But the dying of the embers

That murders all hope for the flame