From the cusp of midnight mountains Wending as a mist Rebels truced with Feriluce (In truth, few could resist) Came praising his hellraising through The sparse and marble clime Where Virtue bathed, their ravings made Her fountains flood with wine
Lifted with the gift Of their dark seductive songs She drifted from the path She was surely set upon Courting chaos Prized in sight Of the covering angel Taught in ways of Smothering another lover Other than God Worshipped in each other's arms Like spider eidolons...
