I tell three kinds of lies:
the lies he tells me that I know are lies
the lies he tells me that I do not know are lies
and the lies he tells me that he does not know are lies.
Can you tell them apart, dear reader?
No, sometimes I cannot either.
Great queen, I ask for Your help in this time of struggle:
show me how to win the battle and outlast the war;
teach me how to survive and thrive on death like Your black-winged children;
make of me a witch and warrior worthy of fighting in Your name,
that I may neither falter nor give ground
but to my very last breath protect what is mine.
Hail to the Morrigan, Phantom Queen and prophetess!
Hail to the Morrigan, sovereign of the battlefield, carrion-crowned!
Hail to the Morrigan, Nightmare Queen!
Hail to the Morrigan, lady of blood and bone and belladonna!
Hail to the Morrigan!
there’s this scream in my throat i’ve been swallowing for years and i used to be ashamed of it, you know, tried to hide it, to bide it, to bury it deep, but now i’m thinking maybe it’s here for a reason and i ought to embrace it, maybe i’m some sort of modern banshee for a modern world and i’ve come to tell everyone that we’re all gonna die, that the end is and has been extremely fucking nigh, and if so then i have a duty to let everyone know, a destiny to detail the destruction entailed, ’cause if you don’t think we’re there yet then oh man do i have a dirge to sing for you, come listen, friend, there’s no melody but i promise it’s a doozy
wake up, witchself, wake up
released from your long slumber
rise up, witchself, rise up
embrace your waiting power
hail, sister!
my mind’s a house full of hallways full of doors, etcetera etcetera, blah blah blah, you’ve heard this all before and so you already know how sometimes i go flying through like a poltergeist, tearing off picture frames and shattering mirrors, banging on the walls with my fisted hands, and other times i pace up and down the halls wailing like a banshee, pulling at my hair and rattling my chains, but nothing stirs, no one answers, it’s all just echoes down the corridor or in the empty rooms whose doors stand open wide ’cause they’ve got nothing to hide, after all there’s no one here to keep out or in, just me, just me to haunt this abandoned body
