Screams cut into the silent night
the moon offers a fading light
Blood oozes from all the trees
a puddle of blackness is all one sees
Death comes at twelve'o'clock
when the deceased wake up and the living is stalked
flesh is smelt through the air
tasting the warmth we know is there
skin so pale, whithered, old
skin so rotten, textured, cold
hunting the new, living, young
licking their lips with their snakelike tongues
Breeding, bleeding all the time
dawn till dusk and into the night
walking, stalking, always older
Hunting, breathing, skin growing colder |
