The gypsy foretold
"Even a man who is pure in heart
And says his prayers by night
May become a wolf when the wolves bane blooms
And the autumn moon is bright"
The bite, the moment of transition
From that point onward, a life transfixed
To hunt, to howl, to pursue all manner of prey
In day's light he'd enter shame and perdition
Should the moon shine, his humanity eclipsed
Then all men should bow and pray
For the wolf man is hunting
And any offered victim will be slain
A howl of victory offered
The curse is to blame
For the humans will seek a wolf
Or mad dogs, or some sort of pack
But his hunt was completed
And he now waits
To attack again, attack
