I will feast on my prey.
for someone left in the lurch.
or a table set for tea.
Look at the pretty sky.
Such beauty way up high.
Like a shrine to what’s holy.
All of this will come to an end.
Don’t bother to search for a friend.
Into the danger from what lurks high.
Shrieking louder than a marching band.
What do they want from our peaceful town?
Death and mayhem–all served with a frown.
Run for your life if you still can.
There’s death for each and every man.
They did not come to play.