|02-23-2007, 02:02 AM||#1 (permalink)|
Long time no see
Join Date: Jun 2006
Location: somewhere in Michigan
A wolfs howl echoes through the forest,
Racing and dodging between the towering pines,
A black streak flies by the scattering creatures,
On the hunt and wont stop till he finds his prey,
Selecting his target and taking action,
With fangs drawn out he leaps majestically in the air and falls onto his prey,
With every slice and stab he slowly kill his victim with no remorse,
Thankful for his kill he drags it back to the pack where the rest of his kin will feed,
A gift from the gods feeds the hungry pack,
Ever so grateful they pray the gods and angels guides its soul back to earth,
Where its spirit will carry on in the wind and the woods,
For all time this will be the way of the pack,
This will be the way of the Indian
not that old signature
|02-23-2007, 10:47 AM||#2 (permalink)|
Join Date: Nov 2004
I really don't see a point to the last line.
"With every slice and stab" try not to use slice and stab, it just sounds bad.
Its alright this seems like a metal song which isn't really my thing.