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In the shadow's of the darkest skies

the old oak withers underneath it cries

under the fear for which it dreads

in the witches hours looms againest the haze

that is where the moonlight fades

And if you put head in wane

for this is where you will betray

to the blame of his kind in his grave

in the bark of lost on her neck

echoes of her entities that are trapped

Innocent blood spilled on unholy rite,

The witch's curse echoes, in the black of night

skewed by the hand of night

the echoes of witches will come alive

where in infinity will deny

as the old oak withers

as the noose runs up high

up high

up high

Oh skid the sympathy of woe

where innocents dies and betrayel grows

as the witches will turn

as the old oak withers

as the noose runs up high

as the old oak withers

Cursed by the bitches dead by fire

in the eyes of the witches in the darkest skies

as the old oak withers