Thy mighty Words, Vampyric Mater,
Queen of the Undead, still evoke my Mind
"Soon my Enchantress shall be Seraphim
to my Throne, built of Immortality"
As Spy in Darkness I see the weak Creature
break the Shadows falling on Her Grave
My Bloodthirst is of the Wolves,
who gather - what Pride - to an impressive Parade
The Purity of the Wintermoon
strengthens me whilst Vengeance is mine
My hunting Fangs - his Mirror of mortal Decay
His Blood drips down like the Grains in Reaper's Sandglass
...the once naked Flowers dress!
Ecstatic Love or bitter Tragedy?
Out of a whirling Storm my Bride ascends
"Thou were mine, Thou art mine
and Thou shall be mine throughout all Eternities!"
Now I touch Thy marble Breasts, shall enchant Thy secret Garden
and drown in the Lakes of Thy ("my") Beauty
"So reunite with me and feel the Passion
Thou get crowned with through my Vampyre Kiss..."
