The moon's dancin' purple
All through her black hair
She's standing 'neath my window
The sun will rise soon on the false and the fair
She tells me she comes from our mother the mountain
She silently slips from her throat a medallion
Slowly she twirls it
in front of my eyes
I reach for her hand and her eyes turn to poison
Her hair turns to splinters
Her flesh turns to brine
She throws herself out to the black of the nightfall
Walk these hills lightly
Watch who you're lovin'
By mother the moutain
I swear that it's true
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