As the wind passes i seem to feel, though my heart is dead.

The moon is full, but there is no hope for the living, as soon we shall all be dead.

The mortal soul seeks a companion, and yet it never seems to truely find what it searches so hard to find,
but truely no human soul seems to find the companion it desiers, just one to fill the void in itself.

Soon it searches for more, but what could it find, besides the race it calles dead.

So naturally it finds us, the undead, but also something else to betray.

So remmember, life may seem fun, but death also seems greater to those who desire it, and pray for it.