An illusion in the mind
Twisting and turning through time
Endless hunt
Surroundings repeat, seemingly stuck in a rut
Running, running, running
This beast is too cunning
No tracks, no scent, no way to find where it hides
In the darkness it lies
Waiting for just the right time...
When will it strike?
There's nothing to do but wait,
Let a few tears roll down in angst.
Aside from that just run until you go insane...
For the Beast, it calls your name.