by Peter Loaf

The eve of all hallows, the carriage rolls
Its driver headless, eight tortured souls
The darkness inside
The Demon to ride
The full moon shining, the bell it tolls

The black snake cracking, the frothing team
Pussy lips splitting, the dildos ream
Passion scent stinking
No time for thinking
The masks of devils, the eyes that gleam

Inside the carriage, the captive bride
Stolen from castle, the moonlit ride
Demon demented
Heís brimstone scented
Hardbound and hooded, unbroken pride

The Kingís men follow, tracks in the dust
The barefoot ponies, the scent of must
The demon diddles
Solving her riddles
Hardbound and helpless, object of lust

The whorses resting, a quiet copse
Inside the carriage, it never stops
The captive screaming
His eyes are gleaming
Demon demonic, her cherry pops

Pussy lips gripping, his monster shaft
Ship of pride sinking, his heft and haft
Her passion rising
His penis prizing
Needing her breeding, knowing his craft

Carriage returning, the demon seeds
The Queen delivered, her pussy bleeds
Demonís possession
Royal succession
Royal womb hosting, the demon breeds