fire lay dying, hearth in the headnnholy don thy veils, for more than fire lay deadnnin the casket the virgins blue blood boiled rednnas unmasked went the virtue on which she viciously fednnin the pews she sat somber and moral and gravennbut now in the grave she sits no longer a slavennwhere the lord gave up hope, the dark offered muchnnto turn yea youthful devout into a ripe succubusnnoh reverend, be still, she came to him cloaked in the nightnnpardon my dark robes, ive such aversion to lightnnsavior hath warned that the flesh is weaknnbut despite his past sermons, he darest not speaknnoh maiden, be still, she came in as the firennand bare bone-white skin as the maiden perspirednninnocence bleeding from her erotic jade eyesnnas warm crimson came flowing from her thankless cold thighsnnbe men ye be mortal, and hence of ill demeanornnfor my tongue is quick and my ecstasy meanernnand with that she bore daggers, under lips dark with fancynnturned her wicked seduction on her creator and enemynnoh heaven, be still, she seduced the skynnand drew lust from the angels and made the omnipotent crynnoh lucifer, be still, she requested of her masternnturn over thy crown and Ill turn tricks for your rapturennundead but still parched alas she came unto mennand in heavenly sadism bestowed her gift upon mennwhen I arose the next eve for a bitennthe truth hazed with dreams, try as I mightnnthe scent of the dead, of the fair jezebelnnwho wore wings like an angel but came straight from hell