the air is filled with the scent of sweet tea and rust. alongside the murky waters and underneath the spanish moss hanging limply from the bald cypress trees, a collection of melting candles encircle three girls. hair draped carelessly over their faces, their hands clasped tightly together, muttering ferociously under their breaths. the candles extinguish in unison. it is done. under this waning moon, the three young witches have conjured up the impossible. and now it is emerging from its eternal hiding place. they drop each others hands, look up from behind their veils of hair and smile.

~ a nod to the southern gothic witches ~

tracklist here: http://katyandthewolves.tumblr.com/post/124107102851

12 tracks