On a chilly October evening, dead leaves sway down from up high
You climb up a tree seeing the moon in the blue-black sky
You gaze at the sphere, red with the harvest moon.
Red as blood, the blood of the moon.
You skip and hop to the Pokemon Center.
While saying to yourself, "it's as chilly as winter".
Then you skip home and play video games all day.
Not knowing of the price you would later have to pay.
For looking into its eyes of deep maroon.
You tell mom you'll be back late.
She calls to you, "Be back before eight!"
You close the door getting a running start.
Then you head to the Poke Mart.
You buy potions, burn heals, items galore.
You buy till you can't get any more.
Then you head on your way to the  forest, not foreseeing your doom.
You meet your friends, who poke fun, saying "We've been waiting!"
But death was what was waiting in store for you.
You look at your poketch, seeing it's only 7:04
You sit on a picnic blanket, and then eat some more
And wait till 8 in the forest, to see if the rumors are true.
Finally, after many hours
And much food devoured,
Do you see the Pokemon with eyes of deep maroon.
Eyes red as blood, the blood of the moon.
Your friends all run and scatter,
Wondering what is the matter,
And why you aren't running from the Pokemon with eyes of maroon.
Red as blood, the blood of the moon.
Your paralyzed with fear,
And surely your end draws near.
Slowly, you look up.
Your whole body stuck.
While you gaze into the now gleaming eyes of maroon.
Red as blood, the blood of the moon.
The red that signifies your doom.
Slowly, you drift into a void of black.
Then you think back.
To the very last piece of advice from your mother.
The very last piece of advice you should have taken:
"Be back before eight!"