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The flock is fed, full of Ignorance

They ruminate upon the things they have in life

They’re the ones to complain, compare or name

Yet trouble never seems to find them

All will gather round for the spectacle

It’s what they live for

and fear is the drug that soothes them

It turns me anti-human

The wolves are baying at the lambs

For all the sheep to gather round

To snuff the cries of fear and hope

With sharpened teeth to dye their coats

They plead for their benevolence

But there is none to be found

They only cower in reverence

For the wolf is slave to none

Once the pastures are grazed to infertility

and the seed no longer sows

When the bravest venture off alone and don’t return

Will the weak remain to guide the rest onward

As they form in rank and file

With the pack to guide them from the shadows

They trample forward in blind parade

They march for greener pastures

But the wolves are drawing ever closer

and they only find the cliffs edge

Now all will gather round for the spectacle

It’s what they live for

and fear is the drug that soothes them

It turns me anti-human