Conjuring Of The 14th - Elvenking

Follow down the path
It leads to a circle of houses
Where foreigners are not well thought
And strangers unwelcome to their affairs
The villagers
So they said
Do heathen rituals
Just for a while
Look through the chimney stack
Through the mist aren't you afeared
Ajar are the doors
A smell of rotten woods
In the mud aren't you afraid
Hidden by the clouds
A pallid sun on a November day
An expedition organised
To go and see what's going on
The villagers
None of them
Weren't seen in town for weeks
To get provisions as they used to
Just for a while
Look through the chimney stack
Through the mist aren't you afeared
Ajar are the doors
A smell of rotten woods
In the mud aren't you afraid
Hearsay called him the 14th was never born he's always been
The sins to expiate in front of him will be the
Worst part of your dreams
Someone said it is a magic place
Through the hazy heights two leagues from Avhon
Among the heart of brushwood aloof from the glances
Lies a village built on a clearing
Thirteen houses aligned maliciously
And a mansion on a hill
That mournful light in
The
Ground floor window is always lit
As they reached the hamlet on the hill
They found nobody at all
Was anybody there
Faint light in the house
Where have they gone
Would they dare to go inside
To go inside
When they all returned back home
They told of uncanny things
When they all returned back home
Inside
Knock knock
Their souls something's hopelessly gone
Jesp Van Cleave the first found dead drowned in the stream
While we was having a bath A terrible misfortune
Was an incredible and fatal accident
Ichabold De le Fournier
Son of the Major was the second one
His horse fell on top of him the wounds were too serious to be cured
One by one the thirteen died all those who
Had been to that village faced the unknown One
One was hanged the other choked little by little
All the townsmen understood
The Conjuring of the 14th was gliding in the mazes of their lives
Thirteen souls to replace the old the evil lifeblood will
Flow in the shadows of their bodies
Hearsay called him the 14th was never born he's always been
The sins to expiate in front of him will be the worst part
Of your dreams
Someone said it is a magic place
Through the hazy heights two leagues from Avhon
Among the heart of brushwood aloof from the glances
Lies a village built on a clearing
When they went back to the village then thirteen houses occupied
Thirteen new inhabitants whom does he look like
Thirteen houses aligned maliciously
And a mansion on a hill
That mournful light in
The
Ground floor window will be always lit