| Red moons rise below in the valley of shadowed crypts
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| Lunar winds take me above on feathers of black mists
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| Centuries I waited for my knighthood to be passed
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| With blood a sword is sealed and given to me at last
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| Mighty! |
| Mother! |
| Goddess!
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| Queen! |
| Maiden and Crone
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| I’ve come to seek thy blessing
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| Grant me a will of stone
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| Kings rule by blasphemy against the sacred shrine
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| Once fruitful wombs are bleeding christian swine
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| I seek the Mighty Queen of mountains, lakes, woods, plains, rivers and
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| Bathe me in Thy silver light that showers from Thy pores
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| For thee, oh Kerridwen, Thy land I reconquer
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| And all the slaughtered traitors will be breeding nevermore
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| The sight embraces me in a cold whirlwind of souls
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| Visions twist and turn and magickal fire cloaks me in thick smoke
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| Feathered taloned blackest creatures, they lift me into a dream
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| I see the child of two royal lines that will make the druid’s sickle gleam
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| again!
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| The Horned One and the Virgin Goddess lay together that night
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| Renewing vows which created our splendid holy isle |
| What of the King Stag when the Young Stag is grown?
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| I run free with the deer, quick feet on the undergrowth
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| Above the trees the whisp ring, of destiny unknown
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| They seek the stranger mong them, I stare into maddened eyes
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| Baptised with the King’s life as blood flows where flesh met Knife
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| He was in me as we feasted and we drank
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| Upon that isle into spirit we all sank
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| The taste and smell… real and strong of spice and wine
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| As wolves upon a foal we fell, with teeth ripped out the spine! |