The moon splits open like a watching eye

Silver whispers curling through the pines

I feel the pulse rising from the ground

Calling every shadow to gather ‘round

A trembling hush moves through the trees

As ancient power sinks into me

The veil is thin, the night draws near

A voice inside says come, my dear

This is the witching hour

Where my darkness turns to power

Where the stars ignite in flame

And the night still speaks my name

This is the witching hour

Where my heart becomes a tower

Every fear I tried to hide

Now rising with the tide

Ashes drifting like forgotten fireflies

Ancient spirits humming in the sky

A cold breath lingers down my spine

As if time itself crossed the line

The forest leans in close to hear

The quiet rhythm of my fear

The veil is thin, the night draws near

A voice inside says come, my dear

This is the witching hour

Where my darkness turns to power

Where the stars ignite in flame

And the night still speaks my name

This is the witching hour

Where my heart becomes a tower

Every fear I tried to hide

Now rising with the tide

Hear the chanting in the hollow

Feel the pull I cannot follow

Every heartbeat, every breath

Dances on the edge of death

But in the dark, a spark remains

A fragile light that knows my name

It flickers soft, then starts to rise

A burning truth behind my eyes

This is the witching hour

Where the lost reclaim their power

Where the shadows bow to flame

And the night still speaks my name

This is the witching hour

Where the dark becomes a flower

Blooming wild beneath the sky

As the old world passes by