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The 13 witches gather around an altar carved from bone.
Their incantations are to summon the pale mistress from the throne.

The witches dance in mourning, sing sad songs to their lord, Horny Lord.
Until they rise to meet you, burn brighter ever higher, maternal fire.

The congregation gathers, they fear the mistress will return. The 13 will be hunted.At the stake they'll watch them burn.

I see the writing's on the wall. I've watched the prophets rise and fall.
The stories passed down to your kin tell tales of punishment and sin. The mark is on your hand I've seen believers fall down on their knees.

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