We howl to the moon
in the warm summer night.
Calling to the hunt,
or preparing for a fight.
Not knowing what will happen,
but seeing the light,
tonight is the night we move on.
Were losing sight of hope,
and running out of time.
As we run forward, heading for a field,
we know we won't make it as we pass the last pine.
We're out of the forest, now we die, but maybe you'll remember us,
the last wolves, the last nine.
Tonight is the night we move on.
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