Those poor puppies( born into Hell of their owners making)

The phantom butcher
the heartless fool
with two sweet pups
Oh! he was cruel
of course he was
he drove to where
the little owls hoot
in open air
an empty road
where weeds grew high
trying to reach
the great blue sky

he cut off their tails
a shit of a man
tossed them out
and bloody well ran
never looked back
he couldn’t hear
their cries and their yelps
not see their fear
of being alone
on a dusty track
knowing no one was coming back
the pain of the tail removal there
it was a picture of despair

they had each other
but that was all
both were puppies
both did drawl
nothing to eat
and nothing to see
but the cry of the wind
and the buzz of the Bee
the shriek of the eagle
patrolling the sky
and the rain that soaked
them from on high

the selfish gits that do these
things
imagining puppies develop wings
and can fly across the mountains high
but instead of course alone they die
lost and desolate
cold and wet
that shit of a man
had left his debt

those poor souls lost
on that dusty clime
cold and wet
and without a rhyme
or reason to go on and on
unless an angel came down upon

Look at their faces
Imagine their souls
sitting alone
in the deepest of holes
sunk into the earth
half full with rain
the poor little souls
are lost once again