| In starless nights of tempest, Thessaly’s witch creeps out from her tomb
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| The Levin bolt to seize
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| Abhorred Erichtho
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| No prayer she breathed, no supplication to the gods
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| Her breath alone has turned pure air fatal
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| Abhorred Erichtho
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| Necromancy divine, necromancy divine, necromancy divine
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| She loves to light altars with funeral flames
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| She’s brought the dead back from the grave
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| Abhorred Erichtho
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| She has buried souls alive, in control of their bodies
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| She knows the homes of styx, dread mysterious rituals
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| Abhorred Erichtho
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| Necromancy divine, necromancy divine, necromancy divine
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| First through his gaping bosom blood she pours
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| Still fervent, washing from his wounds the gore
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| Then copious poisons from the moon distills
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| Mixed with all monstrous things which nature’s pangs
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| Bring to untimely birth
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| Pestiferous leaves pregnant with magic chants
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| Blades of grass which in their primal growth
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| Her cursed mouth had slimed
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| Last came her voice more potent than all herbs
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| To charm the gods who rule in lethe
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| Necromancy divine, necromancy divine, necromancy divine |