Elisabeth Bathory

... This is a story about Elizabeth Bathori Her blood is ourselves Clean Hungarian blood... Dark castle, occult carol sounds Women are crying, but they are satisfied Elizabeth didn't sleep tonight She exorcised her youth by her own eyes Dead girls are chaperoning her On her deadly magic-circle's lines She pricks needles under the ladies' nails Their frosty bodies are buried alive Oh how I love to feel your breath I'd love to be the lover of death Desires come true, coil prayers are heard By Elizabeth Bathori - the countess of my fire! You are also sacrifice You will give your blood Because she must Have a bath... "Welcome my youth Alike before... More enormous than ever! By the blood, by the blood everything are cleaned... Oh yes I've got the magic... Yes I feel I fly I fly towards the Moon!" Countess it is your night You are haunted by your wild desires Possessed by bestial lust You are the goddess of the love She's got insatiable mind She needs virgins blood anymore Her flames never die away She is surrounded with never-fading glory