Through those old massive walls A shattering mourning As the light of black candles Pierce this endless louring
In a morbid century of despair Buried since eons by nobody known To rest forever in my last cold crypt Awaked by the dance of the December moon
Hide from the sun of mourning The only thing that is released In the deep of Transylvania From a curse of a morbid century
I've been waiting those endless black years Finally the fog is my mantle To cover me from seeking daylight To fly with the ravens cry I'm hunting to torture humanity See your melancholic dreams of mystic Transylvania become reality
Cured for centuries ago So lordly but cold my pale shell To feel immortal in this cold body I'm worship with witches spell
My beautiful dark realm Immuned by a call of the witch So no human eye will ever see Like the sun on my dead eyes upon me
Hide from the sun of mourning The only thing that is released In the deep of Transylvania From a curse of a morbid centuryTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
