Transilvanian Hunger (Darkthrone cover)

Transilvanian hunger cold, soul
Your hands are cruel… 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 true, intense vampires
A 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
A 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