Lycan tearing into the madness, claws of misfortune shredding the surface of social sadness and the radical conformity of social abnormalcies, the species runs with chaos a song without screams for the animals without dreams evermore, for their marks and scores to blood drawn an ire spawns and cries become again, gold pouring from the jaws of old iron tooth, in truth no moon separates traces of shadows and heartbeat rampant in shallows of the soul, the many emotions a torrent wake of storms as waves in plight of nerves and sources of the ink of veins, the mountains of madness as launch to leaps to claw thru clouds of maelstrom alliances, to lash and bite the blood moon of copious light to waterfalls of stardust burying the beasts, they rise from dust covering the forgotten age, they burn trussed with flames in dark times while society sleeps, sussed only after the first yields thru the fields and valleys abandoned by wonder these open pastures welcoming false prophets in silent skies beneath stars and lies from truths become cold and beasts untold, cursed for generations, the life of two as one.