Never caring
When the
Cold wind blows
Always stalwart
Forever bad
Your my witch
My
Stalingrad.
Your my backbone
Never to be shot
Your my witch
From Salem lot.
Mind so sharp
You have no heart
A hoard of
Werewolves
Couldn’t tear
Us apart
The problem was
We did not forsake
So they  made a fire
And Burnt us
on a wooden stake