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The Wolf Of German Spite

The chill that races and shivers up your spine
As the clock is running out of precious time
You sprint forward, dash back, nowhere left to run
He’ll have your throat before light of morning sun

This beast calls the kindred forest land home
His fangs glisten moonlight beautifully shone
Claws shred steel leaving nothing in its wake
Pray for Lucifer’s pity for your soul to take

For if this beast has relinquished common courtesy avail
You’ll be dead before the spark in his eyes leaving no trail
But there is something mad about this beast that you should fear
A secret kept of wars throughout shadowed ages near

Not just a beast no but a man of true conviction
Wars have left him broken, insane with no distinction
Few are called friend, many a foe, in shadows he does dwell
Knowing of human contact and the suffering it’s wrought all too well

His pride scarred in his mind, fierce and unrelenting
No longer a man of love by the curse that has dissented
From the battlements of Stromburg, Belgium and the like
This wolf shall howl for his fallen comrades, on each full moon night



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