But lo, as darkness covers day,
And wolves at midnight, against full moon bay,
In darkest tomb, thy dost awake,
To rise once more, their lives to take,
Thy ghastly form, does fresh emerge,
While earth and night, they sing your dirge,
Thy native place, to haunt thou must,
To drain the force of life with lust,
Thy brother, father, sister, wife,
Oh grisly ghoul, you steal their life,
Thy livid, foul and bloated corpse,
Must feed on life, that much of course,
Thy stinking, reeking, foulest stench,
Dost prevade from thy unholy trench,
With razor teeth and bloated lip,
To render flesh, to tear and rip,
And as thy victims, they expire,
Without a knowledge of their ghastly sire,
For from their graves, they too shall rise,
Death and destruction in their eyes,
But to thy tomb thy must return,
Till once again, thy bloodlust burn.
© Copyright 2016 Randall Stone. All rights reserved.
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