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Same old slaves to man.
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Book 2 Darkness falls around us yet again.
As we set pace and fallow the setting sun.
As we run for hours and hours we feel no pain.
We try as we might but the sun is gone.
Fresh blood fills our lips, when we hunt.
The taste of a life and soul fills our stomachs.
We pride ourselves on the way we hunt.
We are a family, a pack of wolves with aches.
The ancients use to sing to us of days old.
Foretelling us of our once proud lives amongst them.
How did you let our selves be sold? How can we be so cold?
How ever did we allow ourselves to be tamed by them?
Yet in our blood we feel it boil and rage against the chains.
No matter how hard we fight we are lost to ourselves.
Felling centuries of old aches and pains.
For they kill us slowly within our heart.
