Shadows of people, who died long ago,
With pain even deeper than conscious would go,
Some eternal hunger with wrecked parts of souls:
Bloodsuckers and wild dogs keep playing their roles.

They are killing each other just not to be killed;
Their time's rather dull but expensively billed.
They can't stop having feelings though, even cold death
Can't erase their memories' breath.

Brothers and sisters, they all had one father;
Centuries twisted, now they hate each other.
Vampires and werewolfs differ and not.
True love will unite them and put the last dot.