Mars

A hunter truly is a maniacal POS
He goes and stalks the angels
In their habitat,
The pit
he crawled from is his home
I hear
Where even rats and fleas
Would never ever plant their feet
Nor cockroaches would seize

Their moment and be close to him
The new killing machine
Who gets pumped up on killing baby bears
He is altogether mean

For him its about snuffing out
A life thats good and new
Putting on his camouflage
And with all his crew

Carrying out his so called sport
His culture he should know
Murdering any manimals
Its all part of his show

His mother must be sick inside
Knowing that she bore
Such a cretinous POS
And thats what made her sore

As for all his victims
Each tragedy did produce
So many innocent corpses
Why was he let loose

Canned hunter trophy hunter
Hunter to the stars
Poacher trapper looking dapper
Send them all to MARS

Let them bait and stalk up there
That is what I say
And if they can only stay up there
Then thats an excellent way

Of getting shot