Funeral in the Woods - Attic

Made for ancient relics, evil or divine

On Christmas eve she took her own life

What a tragedy, but what she did was heresy

Black magic, alchemy

Giving worship to pagan gods is blasphemy

Her relatives entombed at the local grave mound

But for her disgrace, she’s buried in unholy ground

Funeral in the woods

Her shame is not over yet

A wooden cross between the trees

But she won’t rest in peace

Funeral in the woods

Damned to rot alone

A wooden cross between the trees

But she won’t rest… she won’t rest in peace

In her Attic room stood a shrine

Made for ancient relics, evil or divine

On the skirts of the wood, they found her

Hanging on a tree, oh what she did was heresy