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