They all looked canned to me

We can see that’s it’s hot
Red faces tonight
A dead Lion for sure
Mouth propped open
Alright
What does that say
Inconsiderate scum
Surly and churlish
All tanked up on rum

This fellowship of strangers
Not use to the sun
Anaemic looking specimens
When the day is done
Trophy hunting villainy
Rotten to the core
Not a women in sight
Thank goodness
Just stocked up on gore

The victim
Never stood a chance
There was no place to go
Drugged up to the eyeballs
An injustice as we know
A bounty on its two year head
Blood guilty through and through
Their wickedness collectively
its what these bastards do

Unrepentant criminals
Whose blind libations tend
To call on Bastet’s justice
To get them in the end
Hopefully they will be found
Hunted down and torn
Clawed into oblivion
And treated with the scorn

Given to every Lion
They met
Collectively
Each will
Be torn to pieces
And each bone smashed
Literally until

Each victim has returned
Through spirit
To suck their marrow dry
To strip their rotten skin away
And simply watch them die