Transilvanian Hunger (исполнитель: Darkthrone)

Transilvanian hunger cold, soul
 Your hands are [bad word] .. to haunt, to haunt

 The mountains are cold... soul, cold
 Careful pale, forever at night

 Take me can't you feel the call
 Embrace me eternally in your daylight slumber

 To be draped by the shadow of your morbid palace
 Ohh, hate living... The only heat is warm blood

 So pure... So cold
 Transilvanian hunger

 Hail to the [bad word]  intense vampires
 story made for divine fulfillment

 To be the one's breathing a wind of sorrow
 Sorrow and fright the dearest katharsis

 Beautiful evil self to be the morbid count
 part of a pact that is delightfully immortal

 Feel the call freeze you with the uppermost desire
 Transilvanian hunger, my mountain is cold

 So pure... Evil, cold
 Transilvanian hunger
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