This is a story about Elisabeth Bathory 

Her blood is ourselfs... 

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 ladys 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... 



Her mind is insatiable 

She craves virgins blood evermore 

Her flames will never die... 

Surrounded by infernal glory 



Oh, how I love... .