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Hands on the witchboard

Letters burn forming the words of a story

Dark tale will be told by the Ouija

That keeps the plots for your pleasure

Ask and you will know

You’ll see the disastrous rites, the rise of demons

The vault, where the past waits

For the blood of a madman obsessed by flashbacks

You will join the sect that steals people

You will smell the stench of the bones burnt

O.n the witchboard

L.etters burn

D.ark tales capture,

C.atch your mind

H.idden secrets of the past

A.re uncovered

P.ast is dust

E.vil stories

L.asting grasp

Ask and you will see a room

That drives people insane

Room of nightmares. Body of felo-de-se that shakes

Above a capsized chair

Hanged man’s shadow

Last hours of empty life

Tunnels into the howling void

Ghost procession

Womb of endless night

Window leading in the abyss of the death

You will sneak behind a skullhunter

You will touch the tree of nonexistence

O.n the witchboard

L.etters burn

D.ark tales capture,

C.atch your mind

H.idden secrets of the past

A.re uncovered

P.ast is dust

E.vil stories

L.asting grasp