She is in the forest; immaculately dressed
There will be no tears today, for she is on a quest
In her trembling hands she's holding arrows and a bow
Twice now, she has tried it - her progress, though, is slow
She remembers standing here with Her, not long ago
Now she is alone, and trying hard to let Her go
She will have her justice; revenge and retribution
Maybe then she'll finally be granted absolution
She's picking up the bow and aims towards the tree
But plucking a bowstring, while being a banshee?
There's voices, voices everywhere - and whispers, screams and song
One laughing voice stands out though; "You're holding it all wrong"