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Throughout his soul there burns an inescapable thrill
For tonight he shall feast on one's flesh that he will kill
A flame of pure blood-lust and hunger sears his mind
As he thinks of all the kills that he's made time after time
His teeth all lengthen into razor-sharp white fangs
As the moon climbs the night sky heightening his hunger pangs
His fingers all draw back turning his hands into paws
As from their fusing joints like swords unsheathed emerge his claws
He feels a wrenching pain and he hears a whip-like crack
As his spine quickly shifts forming the dark creature's back
He slowly shuts his eyes as his form ceases to shift
Then the creature sadly moans as they close and seal the rift
It opens wide its eyes and looks around to survey all
Then bounds away to fill the night with its blood curdling call
It comes upon its prey it can taste them they're so near
And so quickly strikes not even one can scream in fear
First it feeds then it sits down and with a stiffened tail
It sends forth an eerie howl which sounds much like a mourner's wail
Then in triumph it goes home and after crack and snap of bone
Loss of razored fangs and claws weeps the man whose heart's not stone
Now he weeps but when through his soul burns again that fated thrill
He cries not for what he's done instead he craves for what he will

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