Her Majesty
ERZSEBET BATHORY
"The Spirits have all but fled judgement. I rot, alone, insane, where the forest whispers puce
laments for me From amidst the pine and wreathed wolfsbane. Beyond these walls, wherein,
condemned To the gloom of an austere tomb, I pace with feral madness sent through the pale
beams of a guiltless Moon who, bereft of necrologies, thus Commands creation over the earth
whilst I resign my lips to death a slow cold kiss that chides rebirth. Though one last wish is
bequeathed by fate. My beauty shalt wilt, unseen Save for twin black eyes that shalt come to
take my soul to peace or Hell for company...My soul to Hell for company."
Cradle of Filth,
Bathory Aria
Give blood to Erzsebet
here!