All The Pretty Witches

Oh mercy, blossoms rotting in a broken skull

All the martyr blood you spill won’t satisfy the bull

Oh mercy, pluck the knuckles from the white-hot flames

Roll them bones like little spells into the fire’s remains

 

Oh mercy, witch’s butter, fungus on a log

Yellow as a slab of flesh that’s left to soak too long

Oh mercy, finger slugs seeking tasty morsels

In and out the child’s eyes, the hungry have no morals

 

All the pretty witches died in the spring

Caught by the hunter, given to the priest

Drowned in the quarry or burned here, burned here, burned here with me.

 

Oh mercy, bless the withered kidney root of God

Stab it in the eye and stab it in the heart

Oh mercy, tricky nipple, feed me in the dark

Comb my dirty hair and hitch me to your cart

 

Oh mercy, nest of witches huddled in a tree

Coiled up like serpents, hiding from the priest

Oh mercy, the harvest moon, bloody as a plum

They’ll feast upon that wicked meat before the night is done

 

All the pretty witches died in the spring

Caught by the hunter, given to the priest

Drowned in the quarry or burned here, burned here, burned here with me.