Minds at rest, children's,
These prowl the night, and find the Beast to torment.
Rays of dark upon my ear, ripping my mind to shreds.
The Beast is in sight, the scavengers' screams of hunger,
I hear.
Lines of dead souls, ripped out from their faithful bodies and strewn
on the ground.
To never foresee minds coming,
To never again feel their master's scent of justice and egotisticalness
in their bones.
For, what would you have me say,
Or do, to you,
Fair prey?