A ******* the train with witch's hair and dark eyes
Stared at me as if I was hiding a secret in the curve of my lip
Or the space between my eyebrows
Or in whirlpool-pupils
I wonder if there is something of the occult in the way I walk
Like a dead woman who adores the crows that pick at her bone marrow
Is there something in the hollows of my eyes that suggests
I am not afraid of the demons summoned to hunt me down
On my morning commute?

They call me.

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."

Why do I have so much pent up worry
When I know,
I KNOW the universe looks out for me

The **** that I have done
(Mostly while I was spun)
Could've got me locked up
Knocked up
Or dead

Gotta learn how
To stay outta my head

Daddy told me when I was young
He had cast a spell on anyone
Who would ever try to hurt me

But how does it work
When I'm the inflicter
My self says to me
Go on, *** her

I tried to be a witch tonight,
followed the the moon's seductive rays.
How frightened was I-- the terror!
To see such light, not in day.

She howled like a wolverine,
coming up from the mountain.
She hushed away the good, the angel,
and there was space
for dark to prey.

These times, I see,
the feminist inferno--
She sings, "I feel the blame."
When men on Earth shun out her sorrow
She clings, and prays, and calls my name.