| Purring, the sweet-tempered soughing
|
| Of lucrative savannah winds,
|
| Stirs the great flotsam of clouds that vowing to usher the evening in
|
| Affecting the set of the reckoning sun
|
| From burnished gold to crimson hue
|
| Before this night is quite sorely undone
|
| The devil is coming from you
|
| Like a ghost haunting the darkness
|
| Stalking the veldt
|
| Where many kings were felled
|
| A savage growling rakes this grassy vastness
|
| Halting you in the tracks you’ve laid
|
| To rule this fulsome world
|
| Now silent as a wisp of smoke
|
| Terror grips you by the throat
|
| You will know the lion by his claw
|
| Mistaking fake demeanor
|
| Was your first and fatal flaw
|
| Never will the hunter ever be the hunted here or evermore
|
| Taking my arena
|
| Brought this courted slaughter to your door
|
| I am nature’s great restorer
|
| First order Carnivora
|
| Fate and foe, no time to implore
|
| Mercy for she has fled
|
| Tail tucked between her legs
|
| Circled prey, recant and beg
|
| To me alone, this powder keg
|
| Of teeth and jaws together
|
| In a riot of adventure
|
| I am Leonine and ten commandments
|
| Cut deep for your death
|
| Damnatio ad bestias
|
| Damnatio ad bestias
|
| Through limitless whispering seas
|
| Of redolent tropical plains
|
| Whereupon mystery’s blistery frieze
|
| A silvering gibbous moon reigns
|
| Aggressive, obsessive to snuff out your lights
|
| I come a cold virulent grue
|
| Blighting your guides and delighting inside
|
| On the pride that is tiding for you
|
| As a beast feasting its hunger
|
| Under the spell
|
| Rifles and fire shall not repel
|
| Industrious machinations rent asunder
|
| No miring me in traps well-laid
|
| I’ll not pale to unveil my Hell
|
| You will know the lion by his claw
|
| This violence is a plague of flame
|
| Licking the brush to flush out game
|
| A bellow of rage caged in yellow eye
|
| Sees evil life seized, unleashed reprisal
|
| You will know the lion by his claw
|
| Mistaking fake demeanor
|
| Was your first and fatal flaw
|
| Never will the hunter ever be the hunted here or evermore
|
| Taking my arena
|
| Brought this courted slaughter to your door
|
| You will know the lion by his claw
|
| Now hear the growing thunder roar
|
| The walls of blackish thorn have fallen batterfang and chaos
|
| Quick to marshal, maul the fools
|
| Who stand by shattered loss
|
| Your shadow scatters westward
|
| Toward the fleeing stars
|
| As a new dawn feeds upon the skies
|
| Heraldic, rampant, battle-scarred
|
| Damnatio ad bestias
|
| Damnatio ad bestias |