Black Wind

The wind that lives in the ways.

The wind that longs for the taste of sweet blood,
That dances to the sound of screams.

The wind that cares not for the dead
Cause it is dead.

The souls of within cry and scream,
For the bodies on men.

The raw flesh that’s a treat the their dry tongues,
The sweet blood the wet their thoughts,
And a soul to add as one of their own.

Hide your face when the wind blows,
Run with all the strength that’s within you.

Find a way gate to leave that hole,
For that’s the way evil won’t harm you.

There is no shield that can protect you,
No sword to defend you.
There’s nothing that can stop it.

The wind begins to blow,
Run while you can before it finds you.

The black wind is coming,
Run before it’s to late.

Run.