Dark is the night, carved by cold crescent moon;
Low clouds conceal the bright stars from the sight.
Far away, jackal cubs snicker and mock;
Jackals' mad laughter resounds through the night.

Jackals stalk forest and city alike,
Burr-matted coats frame their moon yellow eyes,
Slinking through alleys in search of their prey
Murderous howls from black muzzles rise.

Moonlight caresses their flea-ridden fur,
Shimmering touch on each wrenched, crippled form.
Lunatics all, caught in nightmares and lost,
Huddle together to keep themselves warm.

There in his eyes-- where the cold moon reflects,
In dark, shadowed features, the jackals cavort,
Claiming themselves to be like other men.
Striving towards sanity-- coming up short.

Scavenging life from the ruins and dust,
Ever alone in the city's great crowd,
Shattered eyes glowing with nightmare's delight,
Laughing, but broken, a soul ever bowed.

Dark is the night, carved by cold crescent moon,
Masks hide the gibbering jackals from sight.
Deep in the city, they snicker and mock;
Jackals' mad laughter resounds through the night.