Scent is high on the wind tonight, I can taste you from here
Circle Downwind and out of sight, you won't notice I'm near
Twitch of fear as you move at the treeline, I take the weak and the small
Bare your eye teeth or beg me for more time, you won't slow me at all

No, the joy or the hate hardly matters - there is nothing but hunger in this
Rest a heartbeat and I'll get my teeth in blood

Radar sense like a light in the hollow, taste that fear in the dark
Every breath leaves a trace that I follow, I will catch every mark

Move and surely my sharp eye will see you, stop and I'll take you down
Joy of tooth in the bone and the gristle, blood alive in my mouth

Some will say there is safety in numbers, tell that myth to the edge of the herd
Leave the wek and I might even spare your blood

Wizened crone that is bent by the river, She wears a necklace of skulls
Better hope that if by chance you see her, She isn't washing your clothes

Not that seeing Her face really matters, No there's nothing at all we can do
Life begins as it all surely ends in blood

Copyright May 6, 2001 Christopher Bingham

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