Sarke - Primitive Killing

The moon is leading my path
In my hand a knife of bone
In the other a rope
For strangulation, to end it

Prey in sight
Blood will be shed this night

A moment unprepared
A spear through the neck
Falling to the freezing ground
Shivering, cold, dead

Instinct of the living
Primal hunting
Death is life
Primitive killing