Valley of the Ravens

Mistress of incantations
 Your life has been weighed, oh, bearer of the mark
 Guilty before the laws of God
 Harlot queen of the profane
 Child of the void, begin your march
 On the path to the dead lands
 Spat upon under the whip and broken by stones
 The fog gives way to reveal a place
 Of charred flesh and bones
 Carrion birds devour the sun
 A lovely day for an execution
 Light the pyre, start the fire
 For the witch must burn
 The demons dance in hеr obsidian eyes
 Creation of Satan, banishеd to ash
 In the valley where the heretic dies
 Silent she stands without emotion
 Wounds still fresh from the lash
 Utter now your final words before you breathe your last
 With a banshee howl, her voice resounds
 No number of years
 Will ever wash your wretched hands of my blood
 My vengeance will be felt forever
 As the ancestral hauntress
 Harrower of the unborn ones
 Carrion birds devour the sun
 What a lovely day for an execution
 Light the pyre, start the fire
 For the witch must burn
 The demons dance in her obsidian eyes
 Creation of Satan, banished to ash
 In the valley where the heretic dies
 Carrion birds devour the sun
 Such a beautiful day for an execution
 Light the pyre, start the fire
 For the witch must burn
 The demons dance in her obsidian eyes
 Creation of Satan, banished to ash
 In the valley where the heretic dies
 In the valley of the ravens
 Where the witch was sent to die
 She'll be reborn into the darkness this night
 In the valley of the ravens
 Light the pyre
 Start the fire