Title: Sacrifice
Subtitle:
Artist: Bathory
Album: Bathory
Author: Bathory
Copyright: Sacrifice by Bathory
Tabled by: Amen
Instructions: Enjoy!
Notices: I summoned up the living dead
and demons in the skies
I drank from chalice warm and red
and watched the virgin die

Present at ungodly births in holy paradise
I spread eternal dark on earth
And raped mother of Christ
[Oh, mother of Christ]

C'mon baby raise your knife
Welcome darling to my sacrifice
[Oh, sacrifice]

Tie the angel to the altar
Sacrifice to Lord of hell
Let the warm blood torrent, baby
While the moonlight sets the night on spell

I saw the lightning strike in the skies
And heard you roar of pain
Oh, lift the knife and strike once more
Your blood is mixed with the rain

C'mon baby raise your knife
Welcome darling to my sacrifice
[Oh, sacrifice]

[repeat verse 1]

[repeat verse 2]

[repeat chorus]

Tempo: 160 BPM
Tracks: 1
Instruments:
Bars: 126

Lyric

This is a story about Elisabeth Bathory
Her blood is ourselves'...
Clean, hungarian blood...
Dark castle,
Occult carols sound,
Woman...crying,
... eternally satisfied.
Elisabeth did not slept tonight,
Her gouth ensorcelled through black eyes.
The dead girls are courting her,
Upon deasdly magic circles lines,
She pierce needles under ladies' nails,
Their frosted bodies buried alive

Oh how I love to feel your breath,
I lust to be the lover of Death.
Desires become truths,
Evil prayers are heard,
By Elisabeth Bathory,
The countess of my fire

You're also her sacrifice,
You will give your blood,
Because she must have a bath.
Welcome my youth, a life before...
More complete then ever... by blood,
Oh yes by the blood i was encored,
Oh I feel the magic...I fly towards the moon..
Countess it is your night,
You haunted by your wild desires,
Posessed by bestial lust,
You are the godess of the love.

Oh how I love to feel your breath,
I lust to be the lover of Death.
Desires become truths,
Evil prayers are heard,
By Elisabeth Bathory,
The countess of my fire.

Her mind is insatiable,
She craves virgins blood evermore.
Her flames will never die...
Surrounded by infernal glory.

Oh how I love to feel your breath,
I lust to be the lover of Death.
Desires become truths,
Evil prayers are heard,
By Elisabet Bathory,
The countess of my fire