She was so beautiful
Her memory still haunts me
She was so innocent
I will never again be free
I still see her lovely face
I still see the gentle curve of her hips
I still feel the touch of her soft, milk-white skin
Every time again when there's blood on my lips
Every time again when there's blood on my lips . . .
Dusk has arrived yet another time
I awake and leave my coffin
In the dark I hear an old bell chime
Sip from a chalice drained from a virgin
Countless centuries ago I burnt the rose
But it has forever stayed with me
Symbol of happiness to which I came so close
Alas, I know I never ever will be free
Was it a gift of pure love, or only a whim?
It was a present of a treacherous kind
Transformed into a token of sin
Nevermore to fade from my tortured mind
The rose still fills the castle's dark wing
Fear, respect and wealth have been my toll
But its vague images still are disturbing
I have served Him very long and very well
But once there must have been another path
Since then I've gone too far on the road to Hell
To be able to stray from the way of wrath
Even if I could I would still not betray
Though thus I will never enjoy peace of mind
But I know I am destined to go this way
And on the opposite path only lies I'd find
But still the rose keeps haunting me
I am sure it'll never ever go away
I must carry its burden for all eternity
Most horrible when asleep during the day