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Did you not grant quarter to the daemon |
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Giving treatment to its wounds? |
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And would you not consider it unnatural |
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To be born outside the womb? |
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We eagerly await your response |
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And your best defense |
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La Curandera is the young girl |
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In a linen dress of white |
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She dances on black sand in the night |
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In her linen dress of white |
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Let us vote to dunk the witch in the river |
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Styx and photograph the lye |
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So in the shadow of |
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Cerebus her spirit will reside |
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La Curandera is the young girl |
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In a linen dress of white |
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She dances on black sand in the night |
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In her linen dress of white |
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Bird in the fire, mouthful of sand |
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King of the |
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Briar, mouthful of sand |
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The scale and feather, the lock and key |
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The Lord of weather, the beast at peace |
