| Silked like a ghost in infinite splendor
|
| The moon illumes like a madness vendor
|
| Lycanting hosts to a coarse surrender
|
| Frightening most lest they offend her reign
|
| Proleteriat enslaved
|
| In whoredom with moloch
|
| London run amok is sodom bathed
|
| In an eerie light and a sickening fog
|
| This city is a beautiful spider
|
| With a poison welling inside her
|
| That subdues and loots her prey
|
| A web to tarry souls compelling them to
|
| Duly stray
|
| Fantasmagoriana’s on its way
|
| This mist, carousing off the Thames
|
| Its sallow tendrils bend
|
| The will of many men
|
| To morbid fascination
|
| How the full asylums howl
|
| With madness on the prowl
|
| And all the maidens bow
|
| To the skeletal
|
| Squalor King Cholera
|
| Here the age grows more unholier
|
| Careered with fear
|
| Beneath the veil of melancholia
|
| Now the smoke stacks darken skies
|
| The caress of death is on the rise
|
| Its choking breath romanticized
|
| And dressed in gothic veneration
|
| Funereal this bride
|
| Wedded to the dead inside
|
| Blackest magic, whithechapel paved
|
| Penny bloods delight in
|
| The tragic splay of rifled graves
|
| And suicide spirit guides the circle is inviting
|
| Evil dances under many guises
|
| Pristine masks shadow terrible vices
|
| Sins enhanced lucifer entices near
|
| Here the age grows more unholier
|
| Careered with fear
|
| Beneath the veil of melancholia
|
| Now the smoke stacks darken skies
|
| The caress of death is on the rise
|
| Its choking breath romanticized
|
| And dressed in greatest expectations
|
| Thin wings lay on the ground
|
| Buond for the pound
|
| Of the beckoning reckoning
|
| Infatuation with the mysterious
|
| Frights are writing better chapter and verse
|
| Intoxication hearts are not averse
|
| To circus freaks and black waxworks
|
| Those that the grace of god denied
|
| Become divertissement to curb
|
| The bitter taste from glittered lives
|
| Modernity perturbs
|
| Horror victorianorum
|
| Phantasmogenic psychogenic
|
| Sotted minds are bled away
|
| Behind the rind of imperialistic ovekill
|
| Industrious teeth sank deep into the red map
|
| Workhouses grist for satanic treadmills
|
| Spew offsprings back intact
|
| In fact far closer to collapse
|
| And the pooling lamp of science in defiance of the lord
|
| Its hallowed tallow burning with discord
|
| Is born of midnight trysts with resurrectionists
|
| Body snatchers child catchers
|
| The Necropolis built on top of this
|
| Is an Empire fit for ghouls
|
| Is an empire fit for ghouls
|
| Here the age grows more unholier
|
| Here the age grows more unholier
|
| Careered with fear
|
| Beneath the veil of melancholia
|
| Now the smoke stack darken skies
|
| The caress of death is on the rise
|
| Its choking breath romanticized
|
| And dressed in chocked abomination
|
| Aberration
|
| A mourning nation cries |