Flight of the Battish Cauldron

Don't hunt the Wolf
I tell you, don't hunt the Wof
Crystallizing gaze from the dark realms
From beneath the heart of the pure instinct
I met a man, the monster was not present
He held a crossover speech howled up to for Millenniums
He was the wolf-man
Nature Wisdom Incarnate
Yet beside him was this abstractly large cauldrom
Boiling with ascending powers of...
Satan!
Satan!
Hunt down the wolf-hunter
Let us foresee
Let all winged masters ask us
Through the fog
So that alien or not
Reality can unvover
Thy Half-Eternal Glory