Paint sunshine and moonlight on that which we are Building
My grandmother calls herself a crone
A witch cackle erupts, building
Bouncing off my mother
Off of me, maiden in this scheme
Joy and sorrow intertwine
Dancing in the gateway of dusk
For the fire of coming
Dawn
Paint sunshine and moonlight on that which we are Building
My grandmother calls herself a crone
A witch cackle erupts, building
Bouncing off my mother
Off of me, maiden in this scheme
Joy and sorrow intertwine
Dancing in the gateway of dusk
For the fire of coming
Dawn
🪢🥂🐦🔥🧚♂️
🪢🥂🐦🔥🧚♂️