Brethren Of Wolves

The woods are alive
At night, it's calling tempting in
deformed trees and branches
petrified with black thorns outstretched so dark that it blinds it's own shadow
silhouette which guides my way

And smell of death rises
from mouldered soil
I hold the skull bowl
against the cold light of Nanna

Lycanthropy
the arcane power
unleash the beast inherited instincts
through forests maze
my howls haunt

In darkness eyes ignite
the drunk of splendour
from open throat of prey
pours the wine of Satan

The woods are alive
at night, it's watching
deformed trees and branches
drape the parts of victims
oath of kindred spirits
pure and ferocious
the brethren of wolves