She floats where silence used to sleep
A shadow stitched from pain too deep
Her name a curse the wind won't say
Yet death itself keeps her at bay

A floating spirit, wailing wild
No mother, lover, kin, nor child
Just shrieking, keening, combing long
Her streaming hair through death's own song

Her eyes are red from endless tears
From centuries of birthing fears
She weeps, she waits, she knows the dead
Their whispered names still haunt her head

A moving grain, a walking storm
All my dreams lay broken
Where all is sadness and hope is lost

Dark chants make silence bleed right through
It chants so deep, the ground will shake
And from their graves, the dead awake
Dark clouds trail behind her form

But I saw myself, all alone
Not even shadows stayed beside me
My heart was empty, and my soul pure stoned
And then I saw, clear, cold, and cruel

Where no Sun shines, no harvest yields
Every hope I fed with fire
It floats above the mourning fields
Where no Sun shines no desire
No priest can banish
Blades cannot harm
Lit by sorrow, rage, and wrath
It floats above the morning yealds
Then rise and sets the world on fire
She bends what death had closed before
Opens paths and close the doors
Her streaming hands to death's own song
What once was happiness
But now is gone

Their whispered names still haunts her head
Dark clouds trail behind her form
A moving grain, a walking soul
Lightning candles in her path

But this is not a tale of rest

Nor kindly passing to the West
The Red Banshee, unlike the lore
Can bring back death, and so much more
Her screaming rends the veil in two

Dark cloud trails behind their form
A moving grave, a walking storm