This is a story about Elizabeth Bathory Her blood is our selves Clean Hungarian blood...
Dark castle, occult carol sounds Women are crying, but they are satisfied Elizabeth didn't (not) sleep to night Her exor-celled her own eyes
Dead girls are chaperoning her Upon 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 lust to be the lover of death Desires come true, evil prayers are heard By Elizabeth Bathory - the countess of my fire!
You are also sacrifice You will give your blood Because she must Have a bath...
\"Welcome my youth A life 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
Oh ,how I love... [REPEAT]
She's got insatiable mind She needs virgins blood anymore Her flames never die away She is surrounded with never-fading glory