When the Red Butterflies Fly
On a night in November with a full moon sky
There is a graveyard in the Highlands where spirits fly
Scriptures of old are chanted by the past
As they rise through the earth as the red ones are cast
Gravestones levitate with precision and ease
As dark angels in black glide through the trees
To a stone they surround as they circle above
Slowly they transform into an ebony dark dove
Upon this stone it perches as it awaits the await
For when the red butterflies fly, the light they desecrate
The sky turns from night into a reddy dawn
As the moon hits their red their spirits now flown
They land where they land, guided by the dark dove
Their quest is to capture and lure life's love
In the village near the graveyard on this November night
A population in fear, in fright of their light
Before the sun rises souls are drawn as if sprites
No care for the living, their presence leaves blight
A new day starts as if the previous night never happened
For when the red butterflies fly, come this November night
You may be summoned
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