Red Blood of the Rose

Even in the deadest of nights, I find myself, in a garden of passion, in a bed of roses

The thorn is sharp, and my mind is sharp, remembering you in every bud, the scent

Of your cologne, the kiss upon my forehead, when we were taken by the bite

The blood of the count, the curse of the demon, Dracula, has taken our souls

Now we thirst for another, and another, in a cluster of sex, not love, not like ours

Red blood of the rose, give me a bed of champagne, and roses, I will follow you

In every shadow of the crypt, in the pool of shameful cries, I see you in the fog

Your eyes follow me, and I know I will not be able to hide, you are the knight of desire

Find the tomb of my life, of my death, and you will open the glass and kiss my feet

Dripping with blood, I will awaken, and we will take the stake, and drive it into our hearts

So, that we will become mortal once again, and we shall have nude moods, of silken soft scents of the flower of love

The flower, dies, and comes back to life, with the thorn, that cuts our hand

We make love in the red blood of the roses