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The Wolf (ft. Guy Kozowyk of The Red Chord) - text

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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 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.
Devolutionized through carnage piece by piece,
Bite by bite.
Process of human extermination.
Progress by impending elimination.
The wretched failure we call our lives.

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