|
The carrion circle the rotten corpse |
|
Seasons ago before the summer stench |
|
Under the winter stars |
|
A lone creature stalks the night |
|
Its reflection dancing against the streams it passes |
|
Looking for its next victim |
|
A lunar reflection in its eyes |
|
These cold nights draw out the aristocrats of old |
|
Surviving centuries off mortal essence |
|
The writing race of lesser beings walk the day |
|
At dusk the fear strikes and they cower |
|
For when the sun dies he awakens |
|
In the colder months when the nights are longer |
|
This world belongs to Him again |
