Searching for my beloved one, under a blood red moon. In wide open hills,

Where the cold winds blow. I sense him, near, coming soon, as a shadow

Strikes down upon my face from above.


Wicked pyres stalking the cold winter night, guided by the lustfull

Smell of young maidens bathed in pale moonlight. Innocent beauties

With filthy fantasies, waiting for the bite. Not unlike suicidals in

The shadow of the grim reaper's scythe.


Strong gently hands takes mine, shaking with bliss. Taking me to his

Castle complies with my every plea. Where my bethrothed gives me the

Final kiss, before he, with shining eyes is penetrating me.


Spellbound by the howling sound of the lonesome wolf's cry at the moon,

Shining in the dark, yet open sky. The bishop asks his weak lord the

Resigned question why, as he helplessly watches youth and purity die.


A majestic figure with redness in his eyes, laughing spitefully at the

Frightened priest's pathetic cries. Pervertive slaughter under aristocratic

Guise. The black count smiles, licks the blood of his lips.

A preachers demise.


He was named Dracula, said to be devil blessed. Great powers of darkness

He posessed. Pale skin of my neck he caressed. Sweet tasting blood of mine

Made him obsessed.


Welcome to this dark empire of mine, transilvanian hills. To my blood

Stained coffin, made from skulls of holy men that I have killed.

Faithfull desiples of god, with a lack of own free will.

Who visited my castle of mystic darkness and blood dripping thrills.