Amidst the dreary and dismal night
Caroline found the witch of Ptscholh
A song she sings, the tune of death
The light she brings, deep colored red
A deluge of grief
Sliding through her spine
The silences within her song
As beautiful as the graceful notes
A fatherly memory now so blurred
A motherly figure dimed in ache
A deluge of grief
Sliding through her mind
A deluge of grief
Sliding through her mind
Among gelid panes of ice
In the white hiatus of winter
With feet made of basalt the witch drawn near the little girl
And stroked her oval face soaked in sorrow
A blue ethereal light with which the forest was infused
Snow-clad trees and fallen leaves where the only witnesses she needed
Among gelid panes of ice
In the white hiatus of winter
A quest you have in life, my little Caroline
Across the forest you will find bellow the pristine light
The mother of your mother will enlighten the dark path
And through the windy trail your sharded heart
Beware of the white cross in which the fiery archers gather round
You must avoid its glow at any cost