Bruce Dickinson: Book of thel

The mark is on you now The furnace sealed inside your head Melting from the inside now Waxy tears run down your face The whore that never told her tale Relives it every night with you Far off stands the lamb and waits For the wolf to come and end its life Stand inside the temple As the book of Thel is opening The priestess stands before you Offering her hand out, she's rising Come the dawning of the dead In famine and in war Now the harlot womb of death Spits out its rotten core Serpent on the altar now Has wrapped itself around your spine So you look into its mouth And you kiss the pearly fangs divine Happy that your end is swift The weeping virgin cries in bliss The snake and priestess, they are one The veil of flesh is ripped undone Stand inside the temple As the book of Thel is opening The priestess stands before you Offering her hand out, she's rising Come the dawning of the dead In famine and in war Now the harlot womb of death Spits out its rotten core By the pricking of my thumbs Something wicked this way comes And when sleep takes you tonight Will you wake to see the light? The burning sweat of poison tears The river flowing red with blood The cradle-robbing hand of death Caresses every dreaming head Waiting for the marriage hearse To take you to the funeral pyre So you burn the family tree The generations burning higher Stand inside the temple As the book of Thel is opening The priestess stands before you Offering her hand out, she's rising Come the dawning of the dead In famine and in war Now the harlot womb of death Spits out its rotten core By the pricking of my thumbs Something wicked this way comes And when sleep takes you tonight Will you wake to see the light By the dawning of the dead By the dawning of the dead By the dawning of the dead By the dawning of the dead