Soaking the darkest ditch.
The driest hole is fake.
What used to be my witch.
Weeping maggots will take.
Falling the deeper hole.
When dirt supports no worse.
Discovering her soul.
What could had been a curse.
What used to be ... used to be my witch.
What used to be ... used to be a ditch.
What used to be in mud.
Is now her beneath me.
Her time may never flood.
Moving me heavenly.
More than flames loving her.
Are bugs keeping her down?
Are these flames of murder?
Crawling out nothing brown.
What used to be ... used to be my witch.
What used to be ... used to be a ditch.
What used to be in piles.
Under leaves and rocks, low. Enchanting me from miles.
Sleeping before a know.
Down the depths of a ditch.
Dirt crowds like stony dreams.
Over fog is no witch.
Her stay is what it seems.
What used to be ... used to be my witch.
What used to be ... used to be a ditch.
