Power thy native tongue
And swoon thee maiden.
She is kept in midnight slumber
Waiting for day.
She is waiting for you
Like the Moon waits for the Sun.
Her sapphire aglows
Like the eerie gleamed cat eye.
You are a coward
More so a Raven above her.
Slick you think,
To leave her for a witch.
The witch I speak of
Yes a Harlotte indeed.
Your lover. Your wife,
She waits for thee.
Under the shadows
You cast in the day.
For when you come home,
Your wife, she be slain.
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