Night falls upon our village Our children lays to sleep Grandfather tells the story The myth of Elisabeth Bathory
She is still inside my dreams She still feeds my fear I can still smell the corpse I can still hear their screams
I was there the night she arrived The first in an endless line What I saw that stormy night Was not meant for mortal eyes
In the depths of her cold dungeon A maiden of peasant blood Drained of holy life To please the countess of bloodTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
