The morbid tale I shall relay is this:
A woman’s story at a winter fire.
The clouds stretch jaws around the moon and kiss
Surrounding mountain swells as they desire.

Her story chills the bodies of the live,
Who wander lost throughout her mountain pass.
Those lives who hear her fable won’t survive;
‘Til moonlight shines through souls like brittle glass.

She speaks of those, who, purged from their graves
Renounce their bones and to her duties pledge
Allegiance to become her darkest slaves
And follow her through fields of cypress sedge.

Those spirits that she lures into the night,
Wait patiently ‘round fires burning bright.