[Verse 1] Thunder cracks the open moor, three shadows hold a council, No roof, no walls, just sky torn raw, the lightning as a floodlight, Three sisters, barely a breath, barely a scene at all, "When shall we three meet again?" first voice begins the call. [Chorus] Fair is foul, and foul is fair, Schön ist hässlich, hässlich schön, hang that warning in the air, Bonito é feio, feio é bonito, the rule they're rewriting, Hover through the fog and filthy air, nothing here is what it's reciting. [Verse 2] "In thunder, lightning, or in rain," the first one sets the riddle, Second answers cold and plain: "when the battle's lost and won" — Not lost then won, not split in two, but one man's ruin, one man's crown, Same hour holds the gain and loss, the outcome upside down. [Verse 3] Third one names the hour and place: the heath, before sun goes under, Anon means soon, don't blink too long, they're gone within the thunder, And one word drops before he's seen, before he speaks a line, Macbeth — his name said by the witches, planted deep in time. [Verse 4] Graymalkin yowls, the cat spirit calls, Paddock croaks them homeward, Hurlyburly's just a word for battle's bloody roar, They chant their backwards little hymn and melt into the murk, Good is bad and bad gets dressed in good's own Sunday shirt. [Verse 5] Banquo stands beside him, unmoved by the very same spell, "Speak then to me," he dares them, "who neither beg nor fear your tell," They name him root of kings to come, though crownless he will stay, Foul fruit grown from fair prediction, ripening past his day. No dagger drawn, no crown yet won, just whispers planting seed, The future split two pathways wide on a single prophecy's creed. [Chorus] Fair is foul, and foul is fair, Schön ist hässlich, hässlich schön, hang that warning in the air, Bonito é feio, feio é bonito, the rule they're rewriting, Hover through the fog and filthy air, nothing here is what it's reciting. [Bridge] Before we meet the general, before we meet the king, Three crooked voices get the first and final say in everything, Nebel, neblina, fog by any name, swallows up the stage, Evil picks the opening line and signs the opening page. [Bridge 2] Every tongue that tells this tale, in German, Portuguese, or Scots, The riddle translates just the same: nothing is what it seems or ought, Language shifts, the meaning stays, the warning never fades, Fair is foul in every voice the story ever made. [Outro] Fair is foul, foul is fair, remember how it starts, Schön und hässlich, feio e lindo, tangled from the very first act, They're gone before the echo lands, just smoke where they once stood, Watch Macbeth — the witches knew his name before he understood.
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