Through the darkness witches fly. The three mothers are coming soon. Spreading plague from the sky, Their mist is drawing down the moon. The council gathers in the hall To pray before their first trial. Can you hear the church bell toll? Or will you cover your ears? Staring with their empty eyes, From the circle witches rise. Now they learn to live in fear. Flesh will burn, and evil spells are broken again. Everywhere I look its the same old story. The devil has his cunning ways to lure you. Always choose the righthand turn and honour. Nail the sinners down with your boot on their face. Right! Our time will come at the end of days. We hold the iron cross above the Goat of Mendes. Vision must be served in the oldfashioned way. Brotherhood in red, wont you ride with me! Ride!
witch, righthand, oldfashioned, mendes, ride