what would you do for love to be at your hands?
would you kill, would you blame?
even you'll end up in flameas to trick someone to be yours,
lost with jealous thoughts that burnsto let a witch feel sorrow
to make a young prince furrowfool mob, she cries
and beg mercy to the orange and lilac skythe witch as the nun reckoned,
turned to be a black feathered angel, screams
but her voice was drowned with loud cheerswings the color of charcoal,
but never represents her soulstretched, flying off to the night
to leave her love for him that's pure as gold.