I wish to write a story
But the characters have run away
The child has drowned in a pool of guilt
And the men are out to play
The boys, they try. And try again.
But they keep falling
For there is no light to guide the way
And the wicked witch is calling
She dances along the empty streets
Rousing many a sleeper from his bed
And they follow her down the old mountain road
Through the path of the dead
Oh and dead she is, has always been
And soon they will be too
And all the noise you hear at night
Is the waking of her immortal crew…
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