Cacturne's Agenda

Deathly silent in the sun,

I wait for one, a child to stun.

When that one comes into sight,

I long to follow him all the night.

He knows that I am watching,

Yet he's clearly botching.

He fails to perceive who I really am,

I'm a scarecrow, not a plant.

He tries to move, but he can't.

Packs of me take him away,

In my lair, he will stay.

His blood, his blood I crave.

tonight, he will be my slave.

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