The Black Angel

The full moon rises, giving light to the shrouded figures sitting motionless deep within the woods

The Circle begins to stir

Strange chants in the dead of night give way as the Black Angel rises from her sacred grave

The Circle entwined, taking power from her inner being

A virgin is sacrificed

Or would have been

For this is Britain today

Where virgins just don’t grow on trees, woods or no woods

Totally disgusted with the lack of morals in Britain 

She ups sticks 

Directed by a powerful red light

She heads off to Amsterdam.