A scent of blood and salty skin,
the Wraith was here,
still I taste my fear, dripping from her lips.

She ran into the woods, I woke up,
to catch her, to bring out the proof,
what she can do, to the soul.

You have a will that dims the day,
a heart from night you need a prey.
Feast with the sorrow of anyman,
with an act of rightenousness.

I can hear, her speaking,
to the Death,
They are synchronised, but in a way opposites.

All I found, was the trails,
burning hot like was her touch, on me,
made by her hunger.

The trails led up, among the clouds,
I can not stop, when you'll descent again,
as a coldest rainfall.

Then I knew, I'm in a line,
She-Wraith have no time to give her heart,
to make me her first martyr.