The Death Spell - Funeral Pyre

We've got seven mugs of beer
Seven of us breaking spheres
Then again she smiled
Watching her two guards
Chiming of the clock it's time
She had changed her dress and cried
Seven bullets in her chest
She must now confess
She'll be burning in a funeral pyre
She'll be burning in a funeral pyre
She'll be burning in a funeral pyre
She'll be burning in a funeral pyre
Now she must be burned alive
She's not mortal but she'll die
There's good grounds for suspicion
For a flying magician
She'll be burning in a funeral pyre
She'll be burning in a funeral pyre
She'll be burning in a funeral pyre
She'll be burning in a funeral pyre
Burning in a funeral pyre
Burning in a funeral pyre
Burning in a funeral pyre
Burning in a funeral pyre

Written by:
Ozan Turan

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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