(Narrating:) Time is ripe, the King's inside Mildred knocks twice, then enters To a room of golden ventures (Mildred Silfver:) "My King are you there? 'Tis me, thine maid to care For thine needs I will attend Devoted, lovingly - Thine friend... ...Are thou not pleased of what thou seest? Does thou ne'er lust for the kin as fair as me? Oh yes, want what thou seest... And hear my voice Thou willst give in to me" (Narrating:) Leaves of rose in a room of gold 'Pon sheets bloodred the witchcraft'll soon unfold He tries not to give way to her charms And not to take sweet refuge in her arms But then her velvet dress falls Virginal flesh and those wicked words Meet eye to eye as the maid she lures This gullable boy holding little sway To this this one well perfumed maid Soaked well in the craft of an Elder Breed Appears saved though as her planted seed Of deception grows The trespasser... ...Oh, She knows And she caresses his baptized skin She is an angel come Save them white wings To see her stand there The monarch of the land fears That the wine she pours A poisonous draught be Would he die, should he drink too deep? Still her words speak bliss And her voice is so sweet The King be torn 'tween the good book And what's on offer this night Pale skin and glowing eyes Alluring silk flickering in dim light Oh this dark witchery The craft used by an Elder Breed Is used here to serve heretic needs Not great in this day of age is this Foreplay in service of bitter chastity The offered wine in silver cup Not much unlike communion (Simeon of Kroue:) "Oh to feel this Be I the first one parched with thirst? Still by servitude she's mine and I sip once and drink it all up" (Narrating:) ...Dire is the poison kiss And so the very next day the maid returns And the King stays feeble willed And soon the rule of the land seem governed Tweet sheets soiled by his essence spilled And thus the days pass swiftly with little time Spent nurturing else than his hunger for her wine Sublimely unaware summersolstice draws near This King who steers his helm of soul Far from the God he has come to know Finds all the solace he needs in this maid Indeed, as days pass by come summer ripened And seeds sown are but wed and owned And the fable begins where virtue ends Now his bed be made through a maid he wed And the tears shed lessens the pain Now this is the Day of Retribution!