Voices from the distant, long forgotten, sullen woods
Crooked paths are leading me there through this warm august night
Something is dragging me and howling like thousand demons
Oh, it`s hard to curse the one who was cursed thousand times
Hooded figures gathered
All of them lost everything, besides Contempt
The night of joy
Hissing cauldrons of sin
In the shameless bliss
Witches and imps are dancing
Flute is playing in strange, grim tones
Matron holds the chalice, made of infant`s bones
Memories vanished in dusks
Another flame of life went out
Then just sacrifice your soul
And spit on redemption and virtue
The ones, who walk with HIM
Shall be crowned with incredible Contempt
Oh, poor wanderer
Which crossroads led you here?
In the heart of the woods
Full off sinful sounds and ancient fear

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