Saturday, November 18, 2006

Cradle of Filth (Feat. Ville Valo) - Byronic Man - video clip

This is from the album "Thornography" and song has duration 04:09.

Cradle of Filth is a heavy metal band formed in Suffolk, England in 1991. It has been embraced and disowned with equal fervour by various metal communities, and its particular subgenre has provoked a great deal of discussion (see below). Roughly speaking, the band's sound has gradually evolved from raw, traditional black metal, to a cleaner and more "produced" amalgam of gothic metal, symphonic black metal and other extreme metal styles, while its lyrical themes and imagery are heavily influenced by gothic literature, poetry, mythology and horror films. The band has successfully broken free of its original niche by courting mainstream publicity (often to the chagrin of its early fanbase), and this increased accessibility has brought coverage by the likes of Kerrang! and MTV, frequent main stage appearances at major festivals such as Ozzfest and Download, and in turn a more "commercial" image.

Cradle of Filth are: Dani Filth, Paul Allender, Dave Pybus, Adrian Erlandsson, Charles Hedger



Lyrics

Byronic Man

As lonely as a poet on the wall 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 split canopic jar

I proved it, improved it
Drove a sonnet right through it
And in this state of bliss
Evil kissed with wet lips
Pen-filled fingertips
Which drew 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 face would claim for me
Reciting back the almanac of travesties

They call me bad
Mad Caliban with manner
Dangerous to know
A passing fad
Taught in all debauch I excess and in canto

Grown wild this childe
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 he
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, promiscuous laps

Then shooting swans in a gondola
I tripped my foot on a falled star
And there’s nothing like a mouthful of Venetian tar
To let you know just who you fucking are

The patron saint of heartache

Ever after, can they hear my laughter?

The patrons saint of heartache

Never craft a better bed of disaster...

The patron saint of heartache

They call me bad
Made 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
Dangerious to know
A passing fad
Whereupron I tell them
To go fuck their mothers
As so...
On my grave

1 comment:

Imarketing said...

This seems to be a pretty good blog. It is sad that you don't update this blog any more.

Great Blockbuster video clips