The Hunt

A transparent heart can't hide its blackest wish.

Even blood, pounding deceit, only makes your motives

clearer.

Your scheme to conceal the desire may be wise,

But I can still see lust hidden in your famished eyes.

Now that you've shed your skin, you suppose it's time to

feed?

Well, I won't be your submissive prey; I've tamed my

share of beasts.

Now that you've shed your skin, don't assume its time to

feed.

Suspicion is the blood that lingers on the meat.

Love is often gilded with a glaze of deceitful bliss to

hide the darkness underneath.

It's not what it seems. It's not what it appears to be.

Suspicion is the blood that lingers on the meat.

The more you devour, the more you crave the taste of the

life you profess to care for.

You will remain a slave to your own satisfaction until

you drain the starvation

From your eyes and see that I, too, know how to kill. I

will fucking kill.