This is a story about Elisabeth Bathory
Her blood is ourselves'...
Clean, hungarian blood...
Dark castle,
Occult carols sound,
Woman... crying,
... eternally satisfied.
Elisabeth did not slept tonight,
Her gouth ensorcelled through black eyes.
The dead girls are courting her,
Upon deasdly magic circles lines,
She pierce needles under ladies' nails,
Their frosted bodies buried alive
Oh how I love to feel your breath,
I lust to be the lover of Death.
Desires become truths,
Evil prayers are heard,
By Elisabeth Bathory,
The countess of my fire
You're also her sacrifice,
You will give your blood,
Because she must have a bath.
Welcome my youth, a life before...
More complete then ever... by blood,
Oh yes by the blood i was encored,
Oh I feel the magic... I fly towards the moon.
Countess it is your night,
You haunted by your wild desires,
Posessed by bestial lust,
You are the godess of the love.
Oh how I love to feel your breath,
I lust to be the lover of Death.
Desires become truths,
Evil prayers are heard,
By Elisabeth Bathory,
The countess of my fire.
Her mind is insatiable,
She craves virgins blood evermore.
Her flames will never die...
Surrounded by infernal glory.
Oh how I love to feel your breath,
I lust to be the lover of Death.
Desires become truths,
Evil prayers are heard,
By Elisabet Bathory,
The countess of my fire
