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Catacombs
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Blood Countess
I see that which you desire
Costs their essence
Your foul contemplation
To hold the night in your castle of cold
Drain the life of the pure ones
Deadly maiden
Let me inside
Your face, hatred its design,
Has claimed my mind,
My foul contemplation.
To drink the cup in the bleeding room old,
Your dark hair grasps my fingers.
Lady darkness,
Black lust arise.
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The winds voice again
Whispers her name
Cachtice deliver me
To the women I feed
Your tender kisses of death
Upon the faces of young
Now my lips upon thine
Spawn the next of our kind
The winds voice again
Whispers her name
Cachtice deliver me
To the women I feed
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