With the solace and silence of a beast in disgrace
Ashamed; insignificant; the world he must face
As he walks to the moonlight, still a self-concious man
The sooner it's done with, the sooner he can
Walk upon the needles that line the looming floor
The silky velvet silence and the sky break him no more
He's controlled and the worst thing is he takes a back seat
And watches this monster destroy his life, never complete
But enough of those thoughts from deep inside his head
Enough of his warm heart, under grey hair pointless and dead
And more of the physical things that occur
In this werewolfs life and deep under the fur
The time has come and the cloud rolls away
Its' terrible, there is nothing else that you can say
A blood-rippling scream breaks the hoots of the owls
Even the birds are thus used to his howls
Not that it doesn't still scare them, its true
Away through the night every one of them flew
But they are prepared, just as he is, you see
They recognise the sky-orb full and undertake a nightly flee
He twists and he turns in the mocking spotlight
Sheds the skin of caring, conciousness and plight
And, in an instant, a new existence is there
He turns, and he pauses, then a rip, crack and tear
His first victim! A chick, forgotten in the midst
Of flying wings and snapping bills, a healthy bird sun-kissed
No longer basking in the rays of our star
But instead the prey of a cowering man, one that watches from afar
Feathers are clogging the stifling night air
But then the werewolf turns away, a picture of despair
The bird, balded in its ordeal, and shaking with shock
Becomes a moonlight silluette on its way to find the flock
The werewolf on the rampage between the green-golf firs
An outcast of society, now unable to merge
When he is a man, of course, its still difficult to feel
Emotions; the wolf took them long ago, left wounds that just won't heal
But after six whole, solid hours, when the birds start to return
For the dawn chorus ensemble; his skin begins to burn
He wriths, and twists and hopes and wishes with all his might and will
And prays, each day, for a cloudy night without a moon, a night encased in silk
Ashamed; insignificant; the world he must face
As he walks to the moonlight, still a self-concious man
The sooner it's done with, the sooner he can
Walk upon the needles that line the looming floor
The silky velvet silence and the sky break him no more
He's controlled and the worst thing is he takes a back seat
And watches this monster destroy his life, never complete
But enough of those thoughts from deep inside his head
Enough of his warm heart, under grey hair pointless and dead
And more of the physical things that occur
In this werewolfs life and deep under the fur
The time has come and the cloud rolls away
Its' terrible, there is nothing else that you can say
A blood-rippling scream breaks the hoots of the owls
Even the birds are thus used to his howls
Not that it doesn't still scare them, its true
Away through the night every one of them flew
But they are prepared, just as he is, you see
They recognise the sky-orb full and undertake a nightly flee
He twists and he turns in the mocking spotlight
Sheds the skin of caring, conciousness and plight
And, in an instant, a new existence is there
He turns, and he pauses, then a rip, crack and tear
His first victim! A chick, forgotten in the midst
Of flying wings and snapping bills, a healthy bird sun-kissed
No longer basking in the rays of our star
But instead the prey of a cowering man, one that watches from afar
Feathers are clogging the stifling night air
But then the werewolf turns away, a picture of despair
The bird, balded in its ordeal, and shaking with shock
Becomes a moonlight silluette on its way to find the flock
The werewolf on the rampage between the green-golf firs
An outcast of society, now unable to merge
When he is a man, of course, its still difficult to feel
Emotions; the wolf took them long ago, left wounds that just won't heal
But after six whole, solid hours, when the birds start to return
For the dawn chorus ensemble; his skin begins to burn
He wriths, and twists and hopes and wishes with all his might and will
And prays, each day, for a cloudy night without a moon, a night encased in silk