Текст песни Cradle of Filth - The Byronic Man

As lonely as a poet on the walls of Jericho

Or the moon without the comfort of the stars

I am loathe to know it that a man without a soul

Is nothing but a spilled canopic jar



Источник https://alllyr.ru/song97982
I proved it

Improved it

Drove a sonnet

Right through it

And in this state of bliss


Pen-filled Fingertips

Which through me

For through me

Illuminati usually pissed

But with words of some hurts worth

I threw a party that extended God's list



Exciting new flames that my fame would claim for me

Reciting back the almanac of travesties



They call me bad

Mad Caliban with manners

Dangerous to know

A passing fad

Taught in all debauch

In excess and in canto



Grown wild

This child

Whole harems defiled

Faustina's and Mina's

Lady Libertine and her sisters between her



What spread of lies arise when lovers die

Which circle of hell is mine when I arrive



They call me bad

Mad Caliban with manners

Dangerous to know

A passing fad

Taught in all debauch

Crow against the virgin snow





Grown colder, my shoulder

Like a boulder beside her

And bolder, not wiser

My dark seed took up root inside her

That mouldered, where older



Beddings would hold a passionate sigh

But Laudanum and soda

Lord Numb coda

Merited a forest of inherited spite



Fleeing grief for foreign maps

I still played vampire aristocrat

Unloading my gun in hot, promiscous laps



Then shooting swans in a gondola

I tripped my foot on a fallen star

And there's nothing like a mouthful of Venetian tar

To let you know just who you fucking are



[Ville]

The patron saint of heartache

I can't see my world is falling

The world is falling down

The patron saint of heartache

I Can't see my world is falling

The world is falling down



[Dani]

Everafter can they hear my laughter



[Ville]

The patron saint of heartache



[Dani]

Never craft a better bed of disaster



[Ville]

The Patron saint of heartache



They call me bad

Mad Caliban with manners

Dangerous to know

A passing fad

Taught in all debauch

In excess and in canto





They call me bad

Mad Caliban with manners

Dangerous to know

A passing fad

Whereupon I tell them

To go fuck their mothers



As so....

On my grave

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