O'er the wild hills
Wild things live
'Twas not far from the valley
When o'er the hills
Crept the dark
A shadowless moon
A thieving spectacle
Never to be seen
Never to be touched
Kissed by the goddess herself
The wild things were
But only one had lain wit her
He be The Wolf
King of Blood
Though he drank none
Under the moon he stretched
Bones cracked
and hearts gave up.
Photo Credits : Pedro Jarque Krebs
