Bats in the Belfry

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Crooked wings flutter across the clouded skyline,

London sleeps in looming fear.

When the black mist wafts over the devil's spine,

the nuns will cry frozen tears.

His misery birthed such horrible creatures,

superstition flows from the mouths of apocalypse preachers.

For those that walk the streets of the shallow abyss,

cloaks of shadow beckon the shade.

The painting of a nightmare brought by vampiric reminiscence,

chimes of the bell tower set the city ablaze.

A plague of terror infects the living,

begrudging them with violent fantasies of killing.

The shrieks of the bats carry distant screams,

inflicting lunacy in the restless like a stake through the heart.

Of the castle of insanity and intolerable dreams,

only the dead know what lurks in the dark.

Infinite death the vampire brings,

inviting all of Hell to slaughter and sing.

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