The Persecution Song

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
And a fell wind stirred the leaves
The persecution song

Telltale signs of possession
Little Miss Demeanour in the demon's bed
Gasps she just could not suppress
After lights-out midst the dead
And a past on which sin cast its darts of wickedness
Time was running faster for disaster
Strange nights were burning in the furnace of her dreams
A name was uttered, Lilith, mistress, playmate, master
Such sights were stolen in the throes of ecstasy

And in the thick of all in the Black Goddess's thrall
With the wood unseen for trees
Victoria stood tall
Promiscuous in step the Devil breathing down her neck
As jealous zealots stitched apiece
The persecution song

Telltale signs of possession
Fickle Miss Demeanour hissed and disappeared
To her Sisters of the cloth
She now reeked of Astaroth
Again the curse had surfaced
Sneaking back the pagan years
Weaving webs of great revealing
Hidden in the convent an evil libido abided, undone
Breathing, deceiving feasting on her deviant feelings
She'd clung to her crucifix once her torturers begun

Her screams came quick
The miserichord den to vice and screw that had reddened many tongues
Wrung symphonies of suffering from her

Many moons hardened pure hearts
Those plagued by her black arts
Their rooms secreting phantom orgies
Vile rites and rifled graves
Mere hours, now towered above this bent and beaten flower
Her naked body privy to the Abbess and her ways

Victoria fought, no guilt was wrought
Just a torrid retort of blasphemies
Nails and crosses vomited forth
From this pretty little whore now arched like Hell
Arched like Hell

At the very start there were whispers in the dark
And for all the world to see
There was witchcraft at its heart
But then the end grew nigh
A dirge inferno filled the sky
In its customary key
The persecution song

Telltale signs of obsession
No wailing banshee would dishonour their name
Nuns dragged her to the blasted oak
Storm-clouds threatened holy smoke
They hanged her there like Judas
With the Hellcat in her reined
Time was running faster for disaster
Exorcism, torture, gallows, now a shallow grave
A name was stuttered, Isaac, tongue-tied, simple, bastard
They made him dig the pit
Mindless of what it claimed
Mindless of what it claimed