Universal nomads in war,
fallen comrades
Even though we are predators,
prey is prospective
I stare from the mountain,
down into the lights of civilization
And look into the dark hearts
of these savages
Mad at us because
we are free
We cannot be trained, brainwashed,
or domesticated like dogs
Who is happy to beg for scraps
Life is in the hunt itself
We are greater than dogs,
we are wolves
I watched them play dead, play fetch,
pull ropes like dopes
Slaves walked on a leash,
paws bleeding from the concrete
Run too fast,
they get yanked back,
or beat with rolled up paper
They can't hear the call of the wild,
that's hell to a canine
They can't tell us what to do,
that's why they go to the park,
and we go to the zoo
Fallen comrades,
the civilized savages
are shrinking our territory
rapidly killing all trees
and natural resources.
The hunt is short today.
My brothers, we are now the prey.
Last of a dying breed.
Evil ones killing us
while we're trying to breed.
Raid our dens,
murdering pack leaders and soulmates.
Cubs go astray, orphaned,
acting like dogs because they
don't understand.
But my tears are not for them.
My tears are for man.
They must pay.
There is no way to physically express
my loss of all of you,
and joys knowing that I will see
all of you soon.
But until then, my fallen comrades,
for you, I howl at the moon.
You