"Got a hellhound dog That hellhound's gonna rip your face off Got a hellhound dog That hellhound's gonna tear right through Got a hellhound born A hellhound born to the pack Got a hellhound dog And I know that I might be dead Those who seek it out Those who stand a few Hell, hell of Satan's pack We are born of hate Both feet into hell Take another step Towards the bleeding light Those who seek it out Those who stand a few We are a part of it Got a hellhound dog That hellhound's gonna rip your face off Got a hellhound dog That hellhound's gonna tear right through Got a hellhound born A hellhound born to the pack Got a hellhound dog That hellhound's gonna rip your face off Got a hellhound dog That hellhound's gonna rip your face off Got a hellhound dog Got a hellhound born."

The Misfits " Earth A.D./Wolfsblood - 1983 Why did it happen the way it happened"

That was what Lorcain thought about more than anything else. It was a constant question in his mind and had been for a while. Quite a while.

Despite what his image and reputation suggested, Lorcain was no fool. He wasn't a thug nor was he a scholar. He fell somewhere in between the spectrum.

He tried to trace his experiences back to where it all began but every time he did think about those times, his room at Gharnholme would end up destroyed.

He couldn't sleep, he couldn't meditate, he had no escape from the nightmares and blurred visions of his history. Of the darkest of his times as a slave to an overpowering force that demanded complete subservience and the helplessness he experienced.

War, battle and killing were escapes for him. An easily accomplished distraction from that one nagging question that had eluded him for so long. It pierced his thoughts like a hot iron when he was not active and alone. It was the main reason that he was who he was, not only to the general populace but, oft times, to his family as well.

It made him what he was. Body and soul. It molded him both physically and mentally. But"

Why did it happen the way it happened"