Project Athena - Wail of the Banshee Lyrics

In the shadowed woods where whispers creep,
Where souls are bound and secrets sleep,
A silhouette in the moonlight gleams,
A harbinger of despair, she screams.
With hair like shadows, a spectral haze,
Her eyes ablaze in a twilight maze.
A dead man's echo, a lover's plight,
In the grip of darkness, she haunts the night.
(Oooo Oooo Oooo)
(Oooo Oooo Oooh~)
Oh Wail, oh banshee, in the storm's embrace,
A dirge for the fallen, a deathly trace.
In the depths of sorrow, the shadows descend,
Your cry is the warning, to a world's bitter end!
Through the twisted branches, through the screams of pain,
Her lament rises like the blood from the slain.
A tempest of anguish, a funeral pyre,
She dances in chaos, igniting the fire.
With fingers like knives, she reaches for souls,
In the depths of despair, where the darkness rolls.
A phantom of longing, a whisper of dread,
Her song wraps 'round hearts like the chains of the dead.
(Oooo Oooo Oooo)
(Oooo Oooo Oooh~)
Oh Wail, oh banshee, in the storm's embrace,
A dirge for the fallen, a deathly trace.
In the depths of sorrow, the shadows descend,
Your cry is the warning, to a world's bitter end!
Crimson skies bleed with the tales of her grief,
As the shadows converge, offering no relief.
Each note is a dagger, each wail a knife,
In the opera of ruin, she sings of our life.
Her voice, a tempest, a funeral bell,
Echoing through graves, where the lost ones dwell.
In the heart of the night, when the world is still,
She beckons the lost with a haunting thrill.
With a heart made of ashes, a spirit of flame,
In the midnight hour, she calls out their names.
The tears of the living, the dreams left behind,
In her mournful chorus, the truth undefined.
For every lost lover, for every last breath,
She weaves the story of life and of death.
(Oooo Oooo Ooooh~)
Oh Wail, oh banshee, in the storm's embrace,
A dirge for the fallen, a deathly trace.
In the depths of sorrow, the shadows descend,
Your cry is the warning, to a world's bitter end!
So heed the wailing, the night's mournful tale,
For the banshee's lament is the essence of frail.
In the echoing silence, in the chill of the breeze,
Her cry is the anthem of the dark memories.
Wail, oh banshee, your song shall resound,
In the heart of the night, where lost souls are found.