VVytchdance

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 [bad word] they're sent 
His great return, the only goal 
For this, they shall reap ev'ry soul 

So go! & meet the master's ram  [bad word] to join these women  [bad word] his servant whilst thou canst 
Drink blood, conceive his [bad word] 

Cauldrens are boiling, mysteries red 
Of venom & spyces to wayke up the dead 
Gathering hellwhores, 
& [bad word] 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 
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 [bad word]  
Tonight it'll be thou 
Initiation to unspeakable cults 

So do what they wish, [bad word] 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 
vicious black core 
In a shell dead & colde 

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