| Dark, strange Transylvania
|
| Mysterious land
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| Where the Death’s close at hand
|
| The journey has come to an end
|
| The coach arrives at the castle
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| He gets out and stares
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| Up the tumble-down stairs
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| The walls are veiled in gloomy air
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| He’s standing at the gate
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| Beyond someone’s appearing
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| Whispering: «I have been waiting
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| Enter of your own accord
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| Eat and drink, tell me Something 'bout your land
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| I’m interested in England
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| Show me the plans you have brought»
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| «Now, it’s time to retire
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| I think that you need
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| A rest that is deep!»
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| But Jonathan can’t fall asleep
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| Fog ascends from the valley
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| There is no doubt
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| The wolves roam about, with flames
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| In their eyes they swarm out
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| Nightmares strangle his neck
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| Make his heart scared
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| He’s turning about while
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| A voice blares: «Don't think
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| That you are still free!»
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| No key to open the door
|
| There is no key to leave this
|
| Damned castle at once, he knows
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| That there’s no chance to flee
|
| Jonathan’s diary, Jonathan’s diary
|
| Now a new day is dawning
|
| The sky is aglow, my diary knows
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| The things that have happened ago
|
| Watch out for his shadow
|
| His fingers of ice
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| The greed in his eyes
|
| He is the bat in disguise
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| Warning, with the help of the
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| Gipsy he’s leaving, the coffins
|
| Are gone, he’s intending
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| To get to a new hunting-ground
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| London, watch out
|
| His hunger’s abandoned
|
| There is no use if you run and
|
| Hide yourself you will be found
|
| Jonathan’s diary, Jonathan’s diary |