Follow down the path It leads to a circle of houses, Where foreigners are not well thought And strangers unwelcome to their affairs! The villagers (so they said) do heathen rituals
"Just for a while Look through the chimney stack Through the mist, aren't you afeared?
Ajar are the doors A smell of rotten woods In the mud, aren't you afraid?"
Solo: Jarpen
Hidden by the clouds A pallid sun on a November day An expedition organised To go and see what's going on The villagers (none of them) weren't seen in town for weeks To get provisions as they used to...
"Just for a while Look through the chimney stack Through the mist, aren't you afeared?
Ajar are the doors A smell of rotten woods In the mud, aren't you afraid?"
Hearsay called him the 14th, was never born, he's always been The sins to expiate in front of him, will be the
worst part of your dreams! (Someone said it is a magic place!)
Chorus: Through the hazy heights, two leagues from Avhon, Among the heart of brushwood, aloof from the glances Lies a village, built on a clearing Thirteen houses, aligned maliciously, and a mansion on a hill That mournful light in (the) ground floor window is always lit!
As they reached the hamlet on the hill They found nobody at all! (was anybody there?) Faint light in the house (where have they gone?) Would they dare to go inside (to go inside) When they all returned back home They told of uncanny things When they all returned back home Inside (knock, knock) their souls something's hopelessly gone!
Jesp Van Cleave, the first found dead, drowned in the stream While we was having a bath, "A terrible misfortune, Was an incredible and fatal accident!" Ichabold De le Fournier, son of the Major, was the second one, His horse fell on top of him, the wounds were too serious to be cured. One by one the thirteen died, all those who
had been to that village faced the unknown One!
One was hanged, the other choked, little by little
all the townsmen understood The Conjuring of the 14th was gliding in the mazes of their lives Thirteen souls to replace the old, the evil lifeblood will
flow in the shadows of their bodies
Hearsay called him the 14th, was never born, he's always been The sins to expiate in front of him, will be the worst part
of your dreams! (Someone said it is a magic place!)
Chorus: Through the hazy heights, two leagues from Avhon, Among the heart of brushwood, aloof from the glances Lies a village, built on a clearing When they went back to the village then, thirteen houses occupied Thirteen new inhabitants, whom does he look like?
Thirteen houses, aligned maliciously, and a mansion on a hill That mournful light in (the) ground floor window will be always lit!
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