The Death Of Bela

The towers in turmoil  

The bats are weeping 

They all thought bela

Was only sleeping

The crypt's gone quiet

Coffin's gone cold

The blood he dripped

To them was gold

The bats see Bela 

So pale, so white

They screech In frenzy

Through the night

Never before 

Had bats felt grief 

Lugosi has gone 

He's not asleep