The Witchwood
Underneath the wintermoon
There is a fire burning
Waiting for the prince to come
They stand alone
Looking...
There's snow why do they wait ...
... back in mystique nights
After the moons dying
Dancing in the wheel of fire
Sweet virgin this child makin' it cold
His love cuts like a knife
I'm here son
Child of the night
Take his hand, to the
Sweet virgin this child standing alone
His sweet vine, drink as it bleed, whatever son
I'm here son
Child of the night
Take his hand, to the
I'm here son
Child of the night
Take his hand, to the
