Their paws tread against the ground
And claws trace the earth.
They're running, bounding, through the trees
Leaping for all they're worth.
Over rocks and logs and dirt,
With howls upon their lips,
they run beneath the starry sky,
And the earth beneath them rips.
They're chasing, hunting, never stopping,
They seem to nearly catch it, almost.
These leaping dogs, they're on the prowl,
But they're only chasing ghosts.
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