and leech, flesh of a scar,
Bring forth the dead, where ever they are.
on a window, give us a hint,
Some sort of a sound must be sent.
and Ghosts and all that we mourn,
Raise the unchoosen by blowing your horn.
winds and where frogs can be found,
Let there be rhythms from beneath the ground.
and warlocks are welcome to come,
Show us a sign by beating your drum