The wind is cold
Awaken the senses
A scent of weakness in the air
Sliding through trees
Dead leaves underfoot
Following the trail of man
A hundred smells
Ripe and strong
Yet one standing out like a beacon
An aura of impuissance
The fate of a feeble mind

Bloodlust
Baring teeth
Moving in for the kill

Wolves' choir
Hear the calling
Wolves' choir
Hear the song of the fallen

Ashes falling
Like soft grey snow
Silently hunting the prey
Racing faster
Rotting earth beneath
A pale grey sky above
Encircling the prey
Aiming for the throat
The hunted yields
Yet none will hear the pleading
Teeth to flesh
Tearing and bleeding
A feast for crows
Laid to rest in the soil

Bloodlust
Baring teeth
Moving in for the kill

Wolves' choir
Hear the calling
Wolves' choir
Hear the song of the fallen

Wolves' choir
Hear the howling
Wolves' choir
Hear them singing
A choir of lies and deceit