Witches Willow

Keyless, I locked my hands away, away from their arms
But they've returned upon wild heat, like greyhounds begging for scratchings of meat
And the court is heaving like the wild roots, crawling down the witches willow
I remember I heard her laugh one time in the trees
When her roots pulled me through the ground, to join her at her table

Covered in the darkest dirt I've ever seen on platters
Below a ceiling which rained more down on our heads
(and) I remembered when we used to play inside her castle, 40 feet above

The graves are walking from the hills beneath recoiling clouds
When the ghosts and the dead voices come out of the stones the kids get the fear of God
They keep their candles burning, I keep mine burning too, below anyone's gaze

Hear the pork grind off the moss, feel the danger but embrace the fear
Lick the flint which splits the meat, like the way it always was will be
This is what we've waited for, my friends, this is why we tuned our virginals
This is why we lay in the mountains, is it not?