The Hunter's Lair

The snowy night's still sleeping.
Hear the gongs of clanging metals !
Deep within my soul, my heart's beating,
To the drums of muddled petals.
Yes ! tonight, the hunter will become the haunted,
From the blood his arrows once kissed.
Before dawn all will be gone and dusted,
To calm the whispers of souls once hissed.
Here ! worms in the body of the eater,
A drenched lair, a taboo.
Glued to the spell of Woody hectares,
A dinner on cursed tableau.
To the hunter's lair;
Gun powders, smoke in the air.