Predator
A body shuddering in the darkness of night, a hand reaching over to turn on the light. But the light is gone and instead there's a face, a face that's bloody with the flesh that it takes.
With the flesh that it takes from the children that lie, in their bags by the fire, under the sky.
But there's one child here who's not ready to die, so he grabbed the axe by the woodpile with a look rather sly.
So he hides in the woods by the fire in the glen, being scared by the noises in the night now and then. But he remains strong in his duty to man, to destroy the predator as fast as he can.
So now the predators coming and the blood isn't congealed, it's running.
The boy comes with the axe, the beast snarls and attacks, oh who will win the battle this dreadful day?
The boy makes the fatal swing; the beast shocks you with its scream, oh who would dare to dream it would end this way?
Now a new day has awoken, the werewolf's back is broken, and your friends are waking up around the fire.
Even though the werewolf's back is broken, you're not very outspoken, your friends will never here about your night. The daytime has awoken, the battle goes unspoken, and somehow it seems right that they don't know.
For you the joy is greater, maybe you'll tell them later, but likely not when thinking of your soul.
