Lurking in the darkness
Beholds an evil stare.
From the beast ,
That has been leased.
From it’s triumphant snare.

It storkes its pray
Of human blood
In the local neighbourhood.
Where he drags them to his grave,
And realises blood he so craves.

Until the screams of dying,
Are no longer supplying,
This demon with its dinner.

The beast gets up,
To stomp away,
And goes back to its,
final lare.

Where lurking in the darkness,
This brute has had,
It’s passion fruit,
lying there,
With hellish Satisfaction.