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.