Strelizia - The Woman at the End of the Lane

In her enchanted garden, Something’s always blooming, Grows lavender by the gate, Makes her potions stays up late, In her little white house, She wears a vintage shawl, Calls on goddesses for direction, Draws sigils for protection. To some she’s thin and young, To some she’s plump and old. Depends on who you are, Depends on what you want. Folks go to her for tinctures and answers, For fortunes and love spells, You don’t know her by name, The woman at the end of the lane, At the end of the lane. She’s at one with nature, Her cat is always with her, Hears hymns in the winds of fall, Sees people in her crystal ball. No stranger to dark magic, She uses curses and hexes, In her cards she sees your future, You wish you’d known it sooner. To some she’s thin and young, To some she’s plump and old. Depends on what you’ve heard, Depends what you’ve been told. Folks go to her for tinctures and answers, For fortunes and love spells, You don’t know her by name, The woman at the end of the lane, At the end of the lane. She reads world events in the stars, Perceives worldly desires of ours, You can smell her cooking a mile away, One bite brings relief right away. She knows the meanings of dreams, And rules of realms in-between, Can see future travels on palms, Dances under the moon in her rituals. To some she’s thin and young, To some she’s plump and old. Depends on destiny, Depends what the prophecy foretold. Folks go to her for tinctures and answers, For fortunes and love spells, You don’t know her by name, The woman at the end of the lane, At the end of the lane. The woman at the end of the lane, lane lane.