Into The Coven - Blood Ceremony

The season of the witch is autumn long

Weird silence falls upon the throng

They smoke black drugs with Saturn’s bong

And blast our mind with evil song

I see witches in the sky

Flying toward a Quaalude eye

Visions of light from the demons sun

Goat-headed serfs drink to this dawn

A strange vintage brewed in casks oblong

In a perfumed black mass with reptile gongs