On the night,
When the moon is high,
Witches will burn,
Witches will die.
Ice and snow,
Fall two and fro,
To freeze the desire,
That fuels the fire.
Some witches will die,
With a steak in their hearts,
Others will burn,
By the townspeople's part.
But for now they live,
As the trials are done,
The witches that lived,
Will see one more sun.
The mortals were stupid,
For more often than not,
We killed people,
Of the ordinary lot.
