Amongs the trees i watch, as the begins of the forest gather, before the flames of a bonfire.
 Old and demented elves, whip branches of fire against the black earth.
 The flames feed on souls, while a demon shakes o pot, the witches gather in
 a circle and, dead flowers adorn the center.
 Amidst obscurity.
 I see taking place, the pagan celebration, of the creatures of the black forest.
 Beneath this sky, the contles stars, the wolves sing their saddest song the
 elves madden, and the witches sleep, now the moon shines in all it's intensity.
 The [bad word] begin to look for mistletoe, the plant that granrs them eternal
 life, and when the spirits rise, everything shine!
 Beneath this sky of countless stars i watch.