The Singing Skull - The Cursed Chalice Lyrics

The Cursed Chalice
By Bruce Alan Marcom

[Pipe Organ]
In shadows of a pious town,
Where virtue reigned with iron crown,
A holy man, with righteous might,
Condemned the drunks to endless night.
[Pipe Organ]
With fervent zeal and judgment stern,
He'd watch the sinners twist and turn,
No mercy for the wine-soaked soul,
Death was his purifying goal.

But fate, it seems, had plans most grim,
A chalice found would tarnish him,
Gold and gems, a beauty rare,
From a victim's home, he didn't spare.
[Pipe Organ]
This cup, he thought, a righteous prize,
But cursed it was, to his demise,
It whispered soft with siren's call,
"Just one sip," and he would fall.

The wine it poured without a hand,
A crimson river in this land,
He drank and drank against his will,
His pious heart could not be still.
[Pipe Organ]
Each morn he'd wake with parched throat,
His teachings now a distant note,
The chalice gleamed with wicked glee,
As he succumbed to its decree.

Days turned to weeks, his health declined,
His body weak, his mind entwined,
With every drop, his life blood thinned,
Until at last, his fate was pinned.
[Pipe Organ]
They found him cold, the chalice near,
His final sermon crystal clear:
Judge not the flaws of mortal men,
Lest your own sins rise up again.

Now whispers say on moonlit nights,
When shadows dance and fear ignites,
A ghostly figure lifts a cup,
Forever doomed to drink it up.

So heed this tale of holy pride,
Where righteousness and vice collide,
For in the depths of judgment's art,
Lies the darkness of one's heart.
[Pipe Organ]
[End]