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during battle, as swords swing
in mist of time three witches sing
Thane of Cawdor and then king
shall this be solace that they bring

instead a bane upon him is revealed
no kin descendants will he yield
another's son to be the crowns shield
and in this then his fate is sealed

Cawdor comes by a king's good grace
the prophecies he doth now embrace
his lady's ambition positions it's place
plotting to kill a king he must now face

so swiftly onwards, to this fateful deed
to drug king's bodyguard was agreed
a sleeping king knifed with all speed
frame, blame, and slain the only need

but what more hath witches to say
all born of women he will slay
until those of a wood come his way
then shall he see his last today

a wrath he executes with his powers
women and children's lives he devours
across the land of darkest hours
his lady's suicide, and sanity sours

from the wood there comes an army
the spirit of people must be set free
the wronged no longer bending knee
he fights viciously for his destiny

there was one, not from woman born
from a dying womb one had been torn
he sees clearly now prophecies sworn
drops sword, accepting a fate forelorn

sing not of the fruits of greed
nor the fantasy of a lovers flame
the mist of time ensures all bleed
love living and live loving is the game

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