In 1692
Decanting the soul, embracing the glitch
And as the rainstorms poured
I made my pact with Whitewood witch
Burned at the stake
In the city of the dead
Where I sought to ease the pain
With Mrs Newless and the coven of the witches
When all attempts at redemption seemed to be in vain
Burned at the stake
Accused of human sacrifice
But make no mistake
We mourned
When she was burned at the stake
Burned at the stake