Purity of Evil

The black rose of Evil
From the garden in Hell
Was picked for the devils bride.
She yearns for his touch
His scars she bares
Her heart bleeds for him.
And the pain grows and grows
She carries his child
In the depth of her womb
The light is bent from her
She is pulled by the gravity
Of unseen darkness.
The devils bride shall be sacrificed
For the pain he causes her
Is unbearably pleasing.