Carpathia (Live)

From the deepest valleys,
to the highest mountain peaks, the sun caress with care.
Carpathia, all hail to thee, thy beauty is beyond compare.

When the soft white shrouds of morning dew,
lay down on meadows green.
Thy praise is due, but keep thy poetry,
for the night you haven't seen.

For when the sun doth set in Carpathia,
and the worm that gnaws the grave,
crawls hence forth from gulf and cave.

And when the moon doth rise in Carpathia,
then the creature leaves the lair,
and the ghost is on the stair.

For there is no such beauty in the morning light,
nor in the later hours of day.
As when darkness fell in the deep pinewoods,
and the wolves go hunt their prey!

Ah, you should hear the sweet sullen song,
of the night birds call to the moon.
and the glorious howling sound of the wind,
in all wastes and plains marooned.

For when the sun doth set in Carpathia,
and the worm that gnaws the grave,
crawls hence forth from gulf and cave.

And when the moon doth rise in Carpathia,
then the creature leaves the lair,
and the ghost is on the stair.