Waving to me from the up-turned leaves On the trees lining the street Before a storm settles in.
They call me.
Humming softly after sunset, Ushering in the blue of dusk.
They call me.
Whispering along the howling wind That rustles the grass and bangs the shutters.
They call me.
Coming down on me like a firing squad The rain pummeling into my back As I desperately try to remember. As I desperately try to forget.
They call me.
You were the one who warned us. You were the one who taught us. We were shown everything. Told everything. How to protect ourselves. How to fight back. What your weaknesses were, Because you thought they were ours too.
You were wrong.
They call me.
You didn't realize who we were. You didn't know what we were, Or why.
We never meant any harm. We didn't choose this. We never got a choice.
To us, choice is nothing but a fairytale That we've become too old to believe in.
They call me.
The songs of the Old Religion Rumble towards me Within the fog.
**"We are the granddaughters of the witches you weren't able to burn."