He flees upon a path of bones,
beneath trees that snag and tear,
while hungry teeth snap hungrily,
right on his racing heels
- run buck run!
And the orange glow of fires,
they cast shadows in his way,
like pretty flowers blooming,
to consume the very air
- run buck run!
Ahead he sees a glint of hope,
a way to safer ground,
far from the howling laughter,
of strangers in the dark.
- run buck run!
But then a voice, it whispers,
a soft and sibilant sound,
it tells him this, the horrid truth,
as he's sinking down,
there’s no hope here,
sad little buck,
‘Omae wa mou shindeiru’
‘You are
already dead’.