hy 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!"
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