In the shadows where the moonlight weaves, Nerscylla's whispers call from darkened eaves, With a cloak of night, and a heart full of dread, Spin your tales, oh, silken threads of the dead. Creeping softly through the veil of the gloam, She beckons the lost to her sorrowful home, A widow, a weaver, in twilight's embrace, Her spider's dance, a haunting, delicate grace. Chorus: Oh, Nerscylla, with your eyes like the stars, Grasping the souls of the wanderers far, From dusk till dawn, in your web they will stay, Tangled in dreams where their shadows play. With whispers of silk and the scent of despair, She weaves through the night, in a world laid bare, Her fingers like shadows, they part the dark seams, To trap all the wayward, and steal their sweet dreams. Ghosts of the past in her grasp, ever tight, They flicker like candles, consumed by the night, In the depths of her lair, where the lost always roam, The shrouded widow lingers, forever alone. Chorus: Oh, Nerscylla, with your eyes like the stars, Grasping the souls of the wanderers far, From dusk till dawn, in your web they will stay, Tangled in dreams where their shadows play. Bridge: So heed the soft sighs of the night as they coil, For the heart of a widow knows only to toil, In the dance of the lost, you’ll find solace and strife, For those who dare linger may pay with their life. Outro: Oh, Nerscylla, in your threnody, haunt, A shroud of allure in the shadows you flaunt, With each thread you weave, a lamenting sigh, In the realm of the enshrouded, forever they lie.
