Absinthe With Faust
Cradle of Filth Lyrics

Pour the emerald wine Into crystal glasses We will touch the divine Through kissed catharsis
Let us pour the absinthe into glasses and intoxicate ourselves so that we can feel divinely inspired through a cathartic experience.

Let us pitch to the seven year itch Of the ultra-decadent To a tainted world and the painted girls That our fantasies spent
We should make a toast to the fleeting pleasures of the ultra-decadent, who indulge in a world that exists only in our fantasies and are represented by the painted girls.

Tripping through boudoirs laced with opiate themes Sipping the bizzare, tasting copious dreams A toast to those most sacriligeous of days Where for every whim won One soon repays
We wander through rooms decorated with themes inspired by opium, experiencing strange and abundant dreams. We toast to the days of sacrilege, where every pleasure won comes with a price to be paid.

We touched the stars That now laugh from afar At we, the damned The damned
We once felt like we were reaching for the stars, but now we are the damned ones who are laughed at by those very same stars.

We have spent our time Drenched in opulent splendour But when midnight chimes Will gilded souls surrender?
We have spent our lives living extravagantly, but when the clock strikes midnight, will our gilded souls give in to our inevitable fate?

Let us drink on the giddying brink Of pools of excrement All manner of shit for the glamour and glitz Mephistopheles lent
Let us drink and indulge ourselves in the potential disgust of our surroundings, using anything and everything, even the most unpleasant things, to create the illusion of glamour and glitz which is lent to us by Mephistopheles.

I remember the night as if it were engraved In a bright marble bridge stretched across dark waves To the shore from the moon and by Her grace Came that erudite stranger That fucker
That unforgettable night remains in my memory as if it were permanently etched in a majestic marble bridge that connects the dark waves to the moonlit shore. By the grace of the Moon, an intelligent stranger visited us, leaving us with feelings of both admiration and contempt.

Come my friend, to fate let's raise Two finger shots at this our last soiree For tomorrow I fear Swoops all too deadly near This precipitous weir to Hell's high gate
Come, my friend, let us raise a two-finger shot in honor of our inevitable fate during our last gathering. For I have a suspicion that tomorrow our doom awaits us, hovering just above the steep cliff that leads us to the entrance of Hell's gate.