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THE VULTURES CIRCLE OVERHEAD,
THEY SEEK THE DEAD AND DIEING.
RIDING ON THE AIR DRIFTS,
THE SKY THEIR LOFTY PERCH,
SOARING EVEN HIGHER,
SEEKING FOR A FEAST.
THE FIELDS..
THE WOODS..
THE SIDE OF ROADS,
THE PLACE IT LITTLE MATTERS.
THE DEAD IS FOUND,
THE FEAST BEGINS,
TEARING IT TO PIECES.
GORGED TILL FULL,
THEIR BELLIES SWELL,
NOTHING LEFT FOR WASTE.
WHEN ALL IS GONE,
NO MORE TO FEAST,
REST REPOSED IN TREE TOPS HIGH,
BEGIN LOOKING FOR ANOTHER.
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THE VULTURES FEAST
THE VULTURES FEAST
