by Robert S. C. Cutler

Created on: April 22, 2008

Desperation so old, a world of fear;
driven by instinct, blinded by hunger.
A never ending need, a thirst never quenched;
Always searching, always hunting.

Driven by instinct, blinded by hunger;
the slightest of scents stir ancient creed.
Always searching, always hunting.
One quest is finished, yet there is no rest.

The slightest of scents stir ancient creed.
warmth of flesh, sweetness of blood.
One quest is finished, yet there is no rest;
darkness brings death, and with it life.

Warmth of flesh, sweetness of blood;
My craving satisfied, my desire is not.
Darkness brings death, and with it life;
desperation so old, a world of fear;

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