Cycle Of Survival
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Something must be done
I gather the weapons
Life must be near
A crash at my woodpile
Investigating to see
A boar staring back at me
My final reserves of energy
Propel me through the woods
Adrenaline flows through my veins
Destroy the boar or starve
Suddenly it's snatched
Torn to a pulp
A wild pack of wolves
Have found me in their den
Face to face
This must be my demise
Five wolves stare
I accept my only fate
As the beasts attack
I see my flesh
Devoured before my eyes
I slowly fade
Into the land as a spirit
The last word always belongs
To the mountain