
Hunted-Wolf
I am the wolf that is hunted,
The swiftest of them all.
My gleaming fur, so dark in the night,
and my soft trodden paw.
The arrows, the spears and whatever else man use fly over head,
They find the blood and fear with pride, that i'm dead.
But how little they know, of the forest they will never again roam.
The pack cries in unison, the darkness presses in.
The chills rush through my tough skin.
I am the Wolf that is hunted, the one that is grey.
I'm the leader at night and the companion at day.
So, rome if you will the forest which is mine,
Look for the gleam of the fur that is mine.