Occult in it's nature, like eyes in the dark, bring spooks and feelings that scream. The strange wooden board with unsual symbols, display sorts of alchemical things. It's essence seeps deeply a magic unknown, unharnessed, unrivalled in theme. Once touched and embodied, the experience reads out, surreal and much like a dream. We speak to the dead through our Ouija board; come join us to hear their confide! Oh, the secrets they share, make you tingle with glee, for what lies on the other side.
They are happy and hearty, and speak of black angels, that frolic in clouds drenched with rum. Forget about harps, these winged beauties jam, with guitars and boisterous drums. The band plays all night, rocking and talking, the lineup is sometimes bizarre. They send sound through the board, like Jimi and Janice, Cobain and many a star!
The stories they tell while not playing their tunes, is somewhat akin to the beast. Toying with flyers up high in the sky, through storms that hit hard in the east. Fearful travellers white knuckle down, in fear of impending doom. While dark angels emerge and wave through the windows, of a sky filled crashing and boom! A fuss with a panic of lighting and thunder, the magic of life near deceased. The tricksters beguile the lost souls on the trip, everyone including a priest!
Despite their bad taste, they have not the place, to go and crash down a plane. None are so bad, that you would be glad, they burn in a fiery flame. They just play for kicks, like picking up sticks, but on a larger field they yearn... for the worst-of-the-worst are properly fell, burning and burning and burn.
The dead up in heaven have it made in the shade, while the worst are sent trapped down and dwell. But the Oujia's no pass, from the darkness in gas, while witching your midnight spell. Your decisions you earn, your life can you burn, to be wise is to sidestep the hell. Once opened the gate, their is your fate, as their is no unringing the bell.