The moonbeam stares down

as the carcass is slaughtered.

The witching hour of night has come.

Now is the time to perish.

The yearning shows us

no gratification.

All is lost to the shadows

of the dead.

The sacrifice still waits

for his sensual delight.

No one is to live

tonight.

The rot of the lifeless

has taken its toll.

The scatter of his blood

has filled the sacred bath.

She awaits in the mausoleum

her longing is holding.

The victim goes to his death,

an embrace of savage

ecstasy.

As the passion dies,

he meets an eternal rest.

The soul is held onto by

Satan’s hand.

The mortal remains decompose.

The apparition floats away.

He knows he must stay.

She had bewitched him.

He lost his soul to a

seduced passion,

a tormenting vex.

Now he walks during the

killing time,

looking for a woman craving

sexual delight.

Then he steals her soul,

so that he won’t

walk alone.