Did you not grant quarter to the daemon

Giving treatment to his wounds?

And would you not consider it unnatural

To be born outside the womb?



We eagerly await your response

And your best defense



La Curandera is the young girl

In her linen dress, in her linen dress of white

She dances on black sand in the night

In her linen dress, in her linen dress of white



Let us vote to dunk the witch

In the river Styx and photograph the lye

So in the shadow of Cerebus

Her spirit will reside



La Curandera is the young girl

In her linen dress, in her linen dress of white

She dances on black sand in the night

In her linen dress, in her linen dress of white



Bird in the fire, mouthful of sand

King of the Briar, mouthful of sand

The scale and feather, the lock and key

The lord of weather, the beast at peace



Shed not a tear for humanity

Go and fetch my stars

Shed not a tear for humanity

Go and fetch my stars