Madstone - Fiordmoss

Good night wolf bite

One of a kind

Lie low, wipe all traces of a fight

Charcoal blind foal

Limps by her side

Bow and arrow lead them to the hole

She may be the child of spring

Let her in to greet her king

She wore a madstone

Skin tight moonlight

Along her spine

Fireflies swarm wild in a chilling rite

Warm ink, sweet milk

Run down her thighs

Boil glow unknown, simmer until dawn

She may be the child of spring

Let her in and hear her sing

She wore a madstone