It was back in the time of Victorian splendor When into the nightmare of lust she fell Like the flower in November she could not surrender Across the dark countryside she seemed to sail She always walked in the light she was purer than white For no one her head would turn The young court magician his glance cast aside Her heart cast in flames to burn Dreaming With Dreaming With Dreaming With The Incubus It was back in the time of Victorian splendor When into the eternal sleep she fell Like the Earth in December she could not surrender And into the pitch of nighttime she sailed Slipping into shadow slipping out of sight Darkness provides what cant be given in light She shivered at his touch his heart was cold Not of the kind that flesh would hold
victorian, dreaming, splendor, slipping, surrender