The good old boys, raising cain,
Burning the fields that feed the mouths of their brothers,
and their brother's brothers,
what a shame my poor brother was close to those fields
Drowned in the coldest of blood,
Creatures determined to eat their young.
I found the journal you write your secrets in,
a document forged in all of your sins,
and all of the shortcomings you've caused,
you talk like i never existed at all...
Dixie's got nothin' on me...
Hide the evidence and forget what you've seen.
You kept the proof in the blood on your shoes and the stains on your shirt tell the stories of my mistakes.
your body is a breeding ground for selfish thoughts and slanderous words.
I've caught you now and its about time that we destroy.
Burn the Witch.