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Ride, ride, ride |
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Through murky spruce forests where every tree seems to whisper "his" name |
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Goes a hazardous horse-drawn sleigh-ride, the coachman's fingers frozen stiff at the reins |
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Passing landscapes of impaled bodies, it's human scarecrows by birds |
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Eaten bare as the cargo must be brought fore sunrise cannot stop before this Dracula's lair |
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The sleigh onward ploughing through crusty swirling snow being |
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Watched from the edging black forest, sinister eyes in hundreds glow |
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All at once in an unanimous howling before they team up as to yield |
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Not to kill no realization of a hell frozen over can make him stop until his task is fulfilled |
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Ride, ride, ride, |
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Embraced by darkness in the form of a swarm of bats |
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Must be something 'bout that coffin he's carrying, that stalks these predators, some devilish pact |
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Pre-dawn and the horses are struggling half-dead across a suspending bridge |
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Along the winding trail torches has been lit, ill-omened sparkling glow marks the ridge |
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Make haste - there's no time to waste, the upward spiral leads to Castle Dracul |
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In his pocket burns his wife's wedding ring still on her finger - now the circle is full |
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At arrival there's a group of gypsies, had a minor accident when bringing it inside |
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In the coffin lies the creepy stranger, in all it's beauty now the sun arise |
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Rise, rise, rise |
