A month of nights have passed
Memories seem to be black as them dark forests
Only visions seem to linger
Visions of never ending woods and the warm blood

A rain of tastes, of the black wind
Of the dirt under giant paws
The cries and laughs of the evil ones
Mocking voices that dare reality to fade

A month of nights
I rest in the arms of my beloved wife
But the call reborn in my flesh
I know now it was not a dream

A medieval village shakes by the roar of the dark forest
Praying to fake gods they end the day
But agony reaches their senses

From the mutilated body blood smears even the ceiling
Horrified they see the werewolf howling in the roof

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