Mistwalker - Witchcraft of the First Degree

I rode through the town of Salem
On the back of a pitch black horse
Fog had draped the hillside thickets
Foreshadowing remorse
Of a night where we are all judges
Of the subjects of public discourse

Women getting dragged out of their homes
Slave driven to a noose at town square
"Burn 'em at the stake" they shouted
A look in their eyes, a thousand yard stare
Whence cometh the prosecutors of justice?
All young women must now beware

Dearest Abigail, what is your conviction?
Betty dearest, what is your affliction?
You are bewitched, that much I can see
So we'll kill them all to find them guilty
It's witchcraft
Of the first degree

So who are you to pass judgment?
A jury just as guilty as the innocent
Judge and juror, criminal, crier
All will shout "death!" at the funeral pyre

What in God's name is she doing?
She's having a fit!
What is the cause for this?
Some might say it's a witch!
Is there a cure?
Some would say there's no doubt!
We must find the source!
Let's root the bitch out!

Let's tie her down and exorcise her soul!
A demon has appeared to take her body whole!
Why not ask her opinion to ensure we don't fail?
What say you Abigail?

Ask the prophet, ask the seer, the possessed will state her case
These two children are the arbiters of death's embrace

A witch? A witch?
Did she say a witch?
It's time for the pitchfork mob!
We'll uncover the source of this treachery
Via noose, jail or flog!

But how do we know who they are?
A trial will find out who's gone too far!

A witch? A witch?
Did she say a witch?
It's time for the pitchfork mob!
We'll uncover the source of this treachery
Via noose, jail or flog!

But how do we know who they are?
A trial will find out who's gone too far!

Sentenced to death

Written by:
Greg Sweetapple

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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