We have gathered here
For a ritual
Of deepest black
The book is open
And sigils have been drawn
On the floor

They may offer little protection
When what we summon comes forth
The slightest misincantation
May cause a violent death

At the hour of the wolf
Conjuring...
At the hour of the wolf
Your life is not worth much!

Now the ritual's over
The book has been closed
And the floor wiped clean
What did we achieve?
Except permanent scars
Upon our souls

The wisdom that we gathered
Flows away like sand to the wind
The forces that lie outside
Can wait for eternity

At least we're still alive
Though we may never know
When someone gets devoured
In broad daylight!