Kalachakra - Ballo delle Castagne

There came a lady fae the west Who left not one cold man here She smelled of trees and ocean breeze The lady of the vanir She kissed the pollen on the rose She

Blue eyed pursuer I fled you for years Till I turned and you shattered My chalice of tears Through the core of my darkness Poured my madness My anger Your epiph

the werewolves of london town - fire