VVytchdance — Katharsis

The wytches, wytches black they are They feast, they feast upon man's heart Their lorde has summoned them by spell To gather, in his realm to dwell

Creatures of death, creatures of night Conjure the endless evil force Who knoweth no mercy nor'll give in To those who seek to ban its source

The wytches dance in limping line The blood of holy is their wyne The bones of infants are their throne They have no fear, they won't atone

Satanickrite shall find no end To end all life, from hell they're sent His great return, the only goal For this, they shall reap ev'ry soul

So go! & meet the master's ram Girl, come to join these women Become his servant whilst thou canst Drink blood, conceive his semen

Cauldrens are boiling, mysteries red Of venom & spyces to wayke up the dead Gathering hellwhores, & then comes their lorde

Their dark minds shall follow, Their flesh is to rot Will rot in a dreame of his splendour&grace Remember the sabbath, another one waith

Embrace lustful wrayths exstasy wet&hot By nighte-fall they swarm out to head for the spot Where altars of stone, blood-stained, wayte under trees A place long forgotten, So others can't see

Far out in the woods servants vyle Have their shrine To mate with their master In nockturnal rite

An orgy of riches & infinite lust Lorde Satan is gen'rous Yet obey him they must

Doe all what he sayeth, most of all, Bring him lives, their duty they Followe by grim sacrifices

New souls must be draught, Full of innocence & youth, Into their communion, Tonight it'll be thou Initiation to unspeakable cults

So do what they wish, fuck the priest From the vault & next, take the Daggers & open thine veins Some sharp lethall cuts, Watch a scene so insane

The ground seems to open, Thy body is torne The knife-blade was poison'd & thou art reborn

Coz out of the deep lift The spirits of olde & drink from thine pale wrist & see what thou sold

The contract is signed, Now thou art one of the wytches A vicious black core In a shell dead & colde

Inside the red circle, A sister of lore A knower of wonders Unthinkable before Thou slaughterst a childe For it's the demonlorde's will Thy pleasure is sin & thy mission - to kill