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The Wicker Man (Wyrd)

The rain pours down with pain, dampening the straws of hay Flowing down my face, mingling with tears Tears of despair and rage, years of emptiness and hate Soon swept away by the flames, mouldering ashes All that remain, is a pile of charred bones Raising dust for the wind to carry far away The rain pours down with pain, yet they sing and dance Floating in a trance like state, bewitched by the chanting Masked faces far below me, laughing mockingly The first torch is lit, soon followed by others This is it now, it will all end, on this solstice's night Flame, come take me, swallow me Oh great nothing, devour me Light it up, burn it down May the gods, accept our sacrifice Flesh to touch, flesh to burn Do not keep the wicker man waiting As flood I'll return, I am your sacrifice Your corpse will rot into the fields, you'll famish and starve As plague I'll return, going to destroy your world With fever you'll burn, and I'll save none