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I now run the streets in find of flavor,

the thirst is beating me to death,

running around like a lost madman

soon to discover tasty succus.



Yes, my favorite rich color,

The rush of evil; an enactment of Seth*.

The enjoyment of killing is not my plan.

In the end wondering, "what's come of Us"?



Living in the dark, alone in my favor,

Even though I pose as my own threat,

Always wondering how all this began.

Through every feed I slowly confess,



Another victim is observed for more.

Tearing of flesh with more rage that I get,

Blood stains on my face as if a suntan.

My eyes view the dark sky as I devour this feast.



In this fondness for lusty gore,

The corpse leaves this world and yet,

remorse has seem to attack me once again;

lukewarm feel in my veins; energy I slowly possess.





djr