In the midst of flaming ruins sits a scarlet woman bare
Bearing arms of blooded silver,
Sitting stalwart on a mare.
She has journeyed through salvation,
She has journeyed all alone,
She has journeyed through the twilight to find shelter in the sun.
Lashed inside a raven corset,
Wearing heels immersed in ash
Underneath her raven cloister
She is blooded, bruised and scratched.
She has journeyed through forever,
Turning feathers into stone,
Dressed in nothing but her girdle, she bears carnage in her soul
In the midst of blood and fire sits a scarlet woman still
She is waiting for completion waiting patiently, tranquil
She has journeyed through purgation,
Watching crimson turn to black
She is waiting for perfection, scratching symbols in her back.
Clenching hands reveal a dagger made of silver, made of lead
She is cutting crests of crimson, carving symbols in the dead.
From the apex of perfection hangs the loving Jesus crowned
Crowned in thorns of misconception as a beacon to the blind
In the midst of my desires sits a scarlet woman pure,
She has journeyed through the slaughter
To unveil the truth of four.
Lashed inside her blooded girdle
She is waiting for the rain
To deliver her from evil and deliver her from pain.
Only seconds after waiting golden rain begins to fall
It relieves her aching body
And revives the burning soil.
As a consequence of murder foursome rises from the dew
To desire more than nothing is a hunger of the few