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Dna a pattern woven through time and space I am it’s here and now Sacred human connection as told in the stories of old I am the calling of my ancestors
Eyelids teeth and fingernails clipping Something said Rub the egg against your belly Bits and pieces stuck in my head Coming back all in time I remember being 5 when it all started The voices came first
Myths and legends are alive and well all around us. Apollo lives in the steady hands of a medical surgeon In the voice of the newest, hottest star
See my memories of my grandma’s kitchen is not like that of yours It didn’t smell like lavender or fresh lemon detergent
To those who want witchery dead, Tread carefully, You could find me in your bed. When you're drunk on cheap tequila potions, And I'm lonelier than sin, I'll play up the magic
Intercourse, with the Deceased Some very, disturbed,Aroused man, undresses thisDead, bed ridden girl,Before satisfying himself, with her decaying corpse
There was once a beautiful witch with a heart as black as coal She appeared on the steps of a castle and cursed thousands of souls She blamed the prince's greediness and said his heart was dark
A flowering brush silently drips and perspires under the regulation of the dawn. Bees spawn amongst the first lit blooms, humoring the early bird.
He proceeded to wallop at the stumped rocks in front of his Aunt’s home. He had avoided any given chore provided by the three women, and yet feeling guilty for his lack of turn.
You learned of witches, and never to come near,but did they ever tell you what to fear? For we’ve so much in common, we’re just like you, I love to play with matches too.
How long is the road I travel on? How many more ruts, diversions, rocks? I love the view but my caravan is drifting. Falling apart at the seams, all the gypsies are gone
You would call out into your restless night, “I need an Angel that will end my fight, one that brings daybreak upon my endless night.” But the storm raged on, unwavering.
A lightning bolt in a witches hand Can be so grand Shows you what poer she holds If she be so bold I am told When you come across this one you should fold She has so much power
A killer of beasts Thats what I am. A soldier of God. He has chosen me to destroy the Evil. All of the weak; a suffering man. the devil persists, but I am to protect
Three witches gathered round a pot, the first witch said "today let's make something new I'm sick of all this baby finger gluck and newt tail glue and I know just what we wierd sisters should do.
Do I dare call upon what may be fair? That I am only a constructive fraud. The smell of blood lingers in the night air, And I am left by love and lost to God. This I that may take blame for Banquo's death,
Macbeth seemed like a noble fellow, He fought hard and seemed mellow. The witches’ prophecies brought out a different side, One filled with paranoia and fake pride. His first murder started his quench for blood,
I speak to you now, And it's true that it seems As if my encounter Was simply a dream. But listen, dear stranger, As I start to tell Of the little old Hag Who lives in the well.
A day spent in torment, A witch with an infernal love of torture, A job to educate, yet she fails. Why doesn't she see, That we struggle to find the solution, That this is the epitome of masochism.