The lions are dancing under an apocalyptic sky

and lightning reins a brand of fireworks

while this toxic vision shatters out -

- the clouds are growling -

- and we are prepared for the hunt.

He prays for his prey, the tasty young

once demons dancing upon his tongue

and hanting his dreams of a restless sleep.

Even the oldest of lions have to eat.

Ursus curses the feline fatales

there are no more stars in his sky -

- this old lion will starve in defeat.