Creates of mind, a wound
Wounded by treachery
Repairing blackness only

Revenge holding motivity

On wings she'll deliver

All that you would hope to be
A fork tongue is whispering
A prize too golde

Gifts, they will Whiher
Loosing their lustery
A wanderer wears a lonely gun

Being ware the witch's tongue

Speaking chants in rhyme

She shows you just what you want to see
Then she'll switch to rob you blind
Leaving you in misery


On wings she'll deliver
All that you would hope to be

A fork tongue is whispering
A prize too golde
Gifts, they will Whiher

Loosing their lustery
A wanderer wears a lonely gun
Being ware the witch's tongue