Out into the dark of night, they entered with no fright. With choice of form, maybe a wolf or bat will be chewing on your neck or arm. Lightening strikes, thunder rolls, bodies disappear in holes. With plenty to feast on, their bite might make you wish you were never born. Dawn your cross, pray to God our lord Boss. Look over your shoulder, or you may end up colder. Part of the walking dead, blood feed. Food to feast upon, till every blood drop is gone. The vampire smiles with joy and rests upon his casket throne. Has no concern if your soul is gone.
Cheers
Laura