Transilvanian Hunger

Darkthrone

Transylvanian hunger, cold soul
Your hands are cruel, to haunt, to haunt

The mountains are cold, soul, soul
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
Transylvanian hunger

Hail to the true, intense vampires
A story made for divine fulfillment

To be the ones breathing a wind of sorrow
Sorrow and fright, the dearest catharsis

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
Transylvanian hunger
My mountain is cold

So pure, evil, cold
Transylvanian Hunger