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Their Skin Suits Me

Nocturnal hunter, a sickened man.
Out for the reaping of flesh.
An urgre inside, a sickened need.
Drives this human shell.

I strip them from skin.
In my carnal kingdom.
I clad myself in them.
Their skin suits me, so well.

To transform into a butterfly.
To leave this world so wrong.
I do these, awful things.
To ensure the transformation.

Burning inside.
From a twisted need.
Unhuman things I do.

Burning inside.
From all twisted deeds.
From these horrors alive.

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