Transilvanian Hunger (Darkthrone Cover)

Transilvanian hunger cold, soul
Your hands are crue 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
Oh, 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