Witching Hour - About a Curse of a Morbid Century | Текст песни

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• Witching Hour
• About a Curse of a Morbid Century

In the light of the black candles...

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 century

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