Bài hát The Nun With The Astral Habit Báo Lỗi

The Nun With The Astrail Habit




The world was her cloister, the abbess Duboir

In the convent at All Hallows fair

A pearl in an oyster she shone like a star

Augmenting her sisterhoods prayers

Her singing touched Angels and melted their hearts

her choirs inspired the search

For the lost holy grail, the Benedict arts

And the best of the Catholic Church


But if one thing

One precious little thing

Would darken this facade

There would be such consequences


Like the night Sister Victoria

Stepped in from the freezing cold

No candles would light at Evening Mass


The days passed by without a sigh

But dusk came thick with dread

Intangible, the air was full


Of wanderlust and approaching bloodshed


In truth, the Abbess with her pious whims

Enjoyed the new girl's pain

Proof to the rest tat the briars of sin

Entangled all the world in Satan's name


Victoria Varco, once heiress

To a proud noble estate

Fell pregnant by her recklessness

Who then fell foul to a violent fate

Such was here cime in expedient times

And the shame of besmirching her name

Her child was burnt, she was dragged to these walls

For a life in obedient chains


But not one thing

One precious little thing

Would darken this facade


Like the night Sister Victoria

Woke screaming in her room

She spent a week spiralling from heaven


And as the seasons wheezed and pained

Her dream grew more perverse

For no good reasons she would to find

An alluring woman naked save for jewels and verse


When here eyelids close, on a moonlit shore

This intoxicating beauty would appear

The sweetest symphony composed

Those abating lips rose

Tho whisper dirty secrets in her ear


Clandestine secrets


A dream within a dream

She finds hereself this nymph

Abreast a desert dune

And below the crescent moon

Atop a darksome stranger


Ah, the spurting of his seed inside here

Triggers paradise

She rides the beast until the heavens trembled


Forcing eclipse, her lover licks her blood

That drips upon the sand

And almost out of hand

Coarse plots assemble


For somewhere in the convent walls

A templar treasure rests

Forgotten to the vestibules

Like pleasures of the flesh


So, in return for nightly runs

Past tongues and wisdom's hiss

She promised to assist the hunt

for an ancient golden chain amiss