Lycanthropy

Lycanthropy is in his blood
And spreads to those he slays
Uncontrolled metamorphosis
Undetectable by day
But when the moon is waxing
And all the world's asleep
Through woods and fields
The werewolf he will creep

Even a man who is pure heart
And says his prayers at night...
Can become a werewolf when the wolfsbane blooms
And the Autumn moon is bright

He instinctively seeks to kill
The thing he loves the best
He'll bare his teeth, growl and snarl
And wish upon you death

His suffused eyes will glare in hate
Silver-grey hair will shine
He'll grip you in his muscular arms
And on your your flesh will dine

Cures are rare for this schizophrenic
A Marfisa flower is a start
Silver topped cane, a crucifix
A silver bullet through the heart