Fit for an Autopsy
The Wolf
Stalking the herd with a rapid sense of purpose
The desperate hunter smells the fear in the fleeting cattle
Driven by survival, and the sound by the children crying
Surrounded by flies, maggots, and parasites
Waiting to feed on the bodies of the dying
The old wolf with the silver in his eyes, hears more than you see
And knows it is him who is not truly blind
The cracked teeth never fail to chew trough the bone
Guardian of nothing
The rotting earth is his throne
Convulsing in final word conversations
Indulging in last supper death bed invitations
The vultures tear at barren life
Scavengers pick at the chalk lines of dry corpses
Disgust for all that's breathing and that's living
Decomposition of the wretched failure we call our lives
Watch them feed, a colony of fools
Scraping at the plates of the lesser beings
Insatiable impatience
The wolf is foaming at the mouth
The flock turns into a frenzy
Bloodthirsty appetite
Deevolutionized through carnage piece by piece, bite by bite
Process of human extermination
Progress by impending elimination
Process of human extermination
Progress by impending elimination
The wretched failure we call our lives