The Dark Chevalier awaits the dusk
To follow the scent You would mask
With immortal affection his tongue he dips
In the sanguine little pond that monthly drips
Let your softer lips dew his
With a mightly bloody kiss
When you lie to rest at night
Don't clog the sanguine flow
Summon the immortal Knight
Before you give in to Dream
Hair spread on the pillow, her limbs apart
She wants to give in to Ravennish Art.
The monthly crimson drops let free to flow
Set up a sanguine bait He must follow
Summon the Dark Duke for The Harvest of Blood
Let Him taste the crimson lips ready to flood.