The Black Angel

The full moon rises, giving light to the shrouded figures sat motionless deep within the woods The Circle begins to stir Strange chants in the dead of night give way as the Black Angel rises from her sacred grave The Circle entwined, taking power from her inner being A virgin is sacrificed Or would have been For this is Britain today Where virgins just don’t grow on trees, woods or no woods Totally disgusted with the lack of morals in Britain She ups sticks Directed by a powerful red light She heads off to Amsterdam.