I’ve got my church raised on October 31 st, 1966. I’m a cold operator; a hot knife cuts me down the middle every time, so come and feel my love. At the crimson crossroads I stand, I’ve got my torch, my key, and my dagger. No God, no Heaven above it bubbles to the surface from a place so far down in my soul, it makes me dark as the night, Hecate, my underworld bride, makes me come alive. Her touch is both gentle and haunting, leaving a lasting impression of longing in its wak