apple dolls of the lonely witch - old nick (abysmal specter) lyrics
she forages apples off resting loam
shaped into children she can call her own
she whispers to them as she works
a pr*ck of the knife less than solitude hurts
half rotten apples roll at her feet
fragments of faces she has never seen
hoping for voices in an empty house
little dolls dry about two or three ounce
carving mouths that cannot speak and eyes that cannot cry
a shriveled lonely heart mimics fruit immensely dry
she paints their faces with blackenеd soot and a rain of saddened tears
to cast alivе her children dear she’s yearned for countless years
no one sees her except the moon
empty cradles in an empty room
wilted fruit will never love
a wilted heart can never love
she whispers to them as she works
soft sweet nothings to ease her hurt
she knows they will never move
she sees her child’s face in rotting fruit
carving ears that cannot hear and eyes that cannot cry
a shriveled lonely heart mimics fruit immensely dry
she whispers bedtime nursery rhymes to dolls perched on a shelf
kiss goodnight her children whom she couldn’t bear herself
how cruel is the craft of the empty soul?
in bluest light of early morn
the dolls return to roots
their tiny bodies cradled by earth
their heads of rotting fruit
she sits in her chair stitching more
her grief a mountain of stone
one stitch for every quiet night
the witch has been alone
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