Given to crescent moon

Chaldean echoes of spectral gloom

Like a pen pal of the gods

No horns no reply



Flowers of sorcery

Like pearls before the swine

Defying space and time

Sez the pineal gland of mine



Like,

Given to dreaming witches' lie

It's sweet to close your weary eyes

Given to pentacles and more

Drunk with the blood of the whore



Gimme some Metatron

Damn my immortal soul

But show me something that I don't know

Gimme some Metatron



Given to waning moon

Septuagint whispers of impending doom

Cautes and Cautopates

A shit load of bad ass deities



Wore out my shovel

Burying monsters where they popped up

And it's OK

Doesn't matter anyway



For Babalon above

For Babalon below



Gimme some Metatron