Crone Lyrics

On their knees

Foraging the earth

Looking to heal

Those who are hurt

The outcasts, misfits

Those of high descent

Whispering behind doors

To get messages sent

Clergymen are shaking their fists

Grabbing sinners, bound at the wrist

Burn burn witch, you will be slain

You can repent as you go up in flames

Born on the outskirts

Beneath the accepted

Crones and lepers

Socially rejected

Burning in fire

Trapped under ice

Muted screams

Stifled cries

Blamed for the rot

And starving people

Blamed for those diverting their eyes from the steeple

Blamed for the men who proved are infertile

Blamed for the women who's births are a hurdle

Secret purveyors

Public condemners