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Sweetest Maleficia

I conjure you Barron, Satan, Beelzebub

By the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit

By the Virgin Mary and all the saints to appear in person

So that you may speak to us and fulfill our desires

Come at my bidding and I will grant you whatever you want

However vile and the curtailing of my lifeHe would rise triumphant

All done up on a plume of raven wings

Trafficking with sycophants

Sharing his cup amidst other graver thingsAlchemists and sorcerers stitched his head

With the stench of pitch and myrrhThe devout faded out but the pagan remained

The candles burnt low and still nothing came

Bearing golden secrets from a cold malevolent raceHe would have his demon, he would have his vice

All save his soul was up for sacrifice

Despite their raising not a single hair

Everything stank of witchcraft thereFrom the stained chapel to the statued lawn

In Caprineum on the lake

To the still lit crypts and the slit of dawn

Sliding down the towers, it all smelt fakeHe needed answers not advice, intending to devise

A lengthy train of torture for the fool

Who thought a seance would suffice

Or sighted, furred dragonflies, the signature of Satan on a wallSweetest maleficia

Sweetest maleficiaAlchemists and sorcerers stitched his head

With the stench of pitch and myrrhPlanchette to Blanchet, from ghosts to a priest

Returning with a spider for the poisonous feast

The Italian astrologer Prelati, spinning sinHis fingertips were scented with the tears from seraphim cheeks

Part glamor and a hammer, cadaverous and glib

Commanding in a voice of frozen peaksHe would have his demon, he would have his gold

Out of control Gilles' soul was sold

Under mistletoe and the glistening snow

Kissing in the shadow of abandoned saviorsSo I shall conjure thee

Demons of the netherworldThe air was sick with trepidation, despair and desperation

Then he fixed his covenant in blood

Now all was rich and tapestried, fragrant wine to shitty mead

His new world opened with a claret floodTime was right this wretched night

To etch the circles clear againAs a labyrinth of razors led a blind man to the stars

So too Prelati brought the dark

It's name was Barron, eyes like catastrophic tar, imbibed with fire

They fed him shredded infants on an altar full of scarsEntangled in a dream, the mirrors full of steam

He scarce could see Joan's face reflecting through

His last attempt to grasp at God lay blackened in a holy fog

And now there were only devils to pursueGilles was wrapped in a velvet spell

Of hell and her seductionsThe assassinated days as a Caesar gone by

Barron spitting acid as his magical guide

Lit demonic pyres where once dying embers writhedSweetest maleficia

Sweetest maleficia

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