Belle Vamp - Bathory the Countess

Bathory the Countess

High on the hill, in shadows she dwelled,
A castle of whispers where darkness swelled.
Beauty unmatched, yet cold as stone,
Elizabeth Bathory on her bloodstained throne.

They spoke of screams behind those walls,
Young maidens lost to her cruel calls.
She danced in red, bathed in sin,
Seeking youth beneath the skin.

Mirror, mirror, cracked with time,
Haunted by the fading prime.
Would blood restore what years have taken?
Or was her soul long forsaken?

Blood of the Countess, flowing deep,
Promises made she could never keep.
Eternal youth at a deadly cost,
In crimson rivers, her soul was lost.

Whispers grew, the village wept,
Too many daughters who never slept.
Behind cold eyes, a twisted desire,
Feeding beauty with funeral pyres.

Candles flicker, shadows waltz,
Echoes of her chilling faults.
Cursed to live in infamy,
Bound by her own vanity.

Blood of the Countess, flowing deep,
Promises made she could never keep.
Eternal youth at a deadly cost,
In crimson rivers, her soul was lost.

Locked away, stone walls confine,
No mirrors left, no blood to dine.
Alone she aged, beauty decayed,
By her own nightmares betrayed.

High on the hill, ruins remain,
Whispering still of her cruel reign.
Elizabeth Bathory, forever known,
As the Countess cursed to die alone.