What fire comes with brimstone?

What blood shall flow like wine?

What day shall come tomorrow?

Which witch shall steal my mind?

The moon shines so brightly 

In a night pure and dark

The knife with blade honed so sharply 

Quickly finds its mark.

Flint and tinder striking 

In a room of dust and powder

Lips of red are smile  

Capturing the weak with gestures so beguiling 

Mark the spot with gravediggers eyes

See through the mischief 

See through the lies

Ask the questions as blood through my fingers runs

Look beyond the grey clouds

See then if you can find the sun

What fire comes with brimstone?

What blood shall flow like wine?

What day shall come tomorrow?

Which witch shall steal my mind?

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