Fifteen-Hundred-Thirty-SixHer age has dome the crown affixedHer only wish is to conceiveWhis’st burning those that shun beliefCountless years of bloodthistAnd hundreds sacrificed [All hanged, quartered, cauterisedThe queen’s still longing to give birthEndless years of madness!Death the fatigue, the cruel intrigueIs the despairand the sadnessOf royal womb still fuitlessBlood QueenBlood QueenLike the beggar’ fore the altarIt seems Lord has eased her plightYet miscarrise still comes swiftlyLike a thiefIn’ Midst of nightAscending her stairs back wards »Show me my future and show me what’s mine »And the mirror shows herNew-born childShe reaches for the infant, so sweetBut the mirror cracksAnd its eyes start to bleedA thick mist descendsSuddenly down the stairsShe drops the ghastly mirrorScreaming in despairBlood QueenA shape appears in the mistyAnd throws her to the floorThe child, wow floating in the airShe screams »No more! « Th eyeless child then reaches outShe grabs its little armBut a surge of mist pulls her backThe sudden force break the infant’s neckBlood QueenBlood QueenBlood QueenShe comes throug the mirrorBlood QueenShe comes throug the mirrorBlood QueenShe comes throug the mirrorBlood Queen