Wine from the blade on the night of the full moon
Voices that call spirits in waiting
Sharing the drink of the bond
A broth of roots and charms
Spells under a twisted tree
Heretic, burn at the cross
Witch, float like a log
Flask over fire, from cobwebs of cellars
Turning metal into gold
A secret till the last word’s untold
Accused and convicted
For nothing I suffer your fear
Nailed to a burning cross
Heretic, Heretic
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