Bela - Saint Vitus

Do you know me

I think you do

From my tomb

I rise each night

My bone-dry lips

Long for you

I feed on humans

My mortuary

Freshly brewed

As I play with you

Is a gruesome sight

I’m never caught

In the dead of night

And I’m never seen

As I crease the sky

With the blackest wings

The crack of dawn

I know that I must end my feast

Until the next moonbeam glowsSends a chill through me

Into the dust I must go