Blåkullafärden

A ghostly whisper by the hearth of the North, it’s slowly starting to dim
With witchcraft along the clouds on their way, women with wisdom so grim
Their chant calls for the embrace of the firebed, a dark power in human stead
A dreadful feast shall be set

Cunning curses in worship and rite, in the witch dance on full moon nights
From the underworld, the steam so white, around yearning silhouettes in sight
They tame the storms with restless words, as they gather on their ancestral turf
A dreadful feast now stands

Chorus:
The pact of the journey to Blåkulla
Hear the song of the fallen angels
The spirit of witchcraft
Is the mother of the damned's captive
The pact of the journey to Blåkulla
In a windborne magical form
The spirit of witchcraft
Has summoned the night of the damned

A dreadful evening hymn sweeps over the knoll, witches praise their sabbath
A creepy shadow play unseen by the sun, but its dazzling trickery has struck many
Creatures gathered on stone slab and flow, witness a blood rite on the highland’s moor
A dreadful feast then stands

When dawn rises by the strong fir woods, in air travel they quietly fade
They’ve completed their mass in the wilderness, Blåkulla now seems to blaze
They are born of the root of evil, they gained power through child sacrifice
A dreadful feast has stood

Chorus:
The pact of the journey to Blåkulla
Hear the song of the fallen angels
The spirit of witchcraft
Is the mother of the damned's captive
The pact of the journey to Blåkulla
In a windborne magical form
The spirit of witchcraft
Has summoned the night of the damned