Bathory

To the palace
Of the lords of Hungary
The girl will learn what it means
To be Queen

Under the wing of the
Countess Bathory
She's locked behind
The gates of misery

Deception
Hell awaits
The girl's lost
Drained of blood
Like cattle

600 victims
Maimed and tortured
Consumed for their
Virgin flesh

Beaten, burned
Severed heads recovered
The flesh flayed
From their
Innocent faces

She's yearning
The youth she lost
The blood heals
Adolescence reclaimed

For Countess
Bloodbaths drawn
The shade falls
Red harvest begins

Freezing, embalming
While they
Squirmed alive
Starved then eaten
Invited inside

Corpses, children, eaten
Left only as bones
Buried under the
Scarlet Moon

Imprisoned
For sins she wrought
They're howling
Spirits beckoning

They're mourning
The youth they lost
No blood heals
Adolescence claimed

In her darkest hour
She finds immortality
Hellfire in her eyes
A creature of the night