These trophy hunting slobs some call them hunters
\nI have many names for them, for they
\nAre one of those psychopathic creeps without a father
\nWho actually I wouldn’t pass the time of day
\nThey pay a ten grand bounty to an exploiter
\nWho gives them in a flash a guarantee
\nTo kill a majestic beast the glorious giraffe
\nAnd off they Go to kill one instantly<\/p>\n
Money talks in Afrika for certain
\nCorruption on a scale that’s through the roof
\nLike cancer they are malignant as caustic as can be
\nDehumanised and truculent a curse to humanity
\nCallous even heinous heartless vile intent
\nUnpitying and unconsoling with a dark remorseless bent<\/p>\n
Empathy it’s lost in all their evil
\nVengeful victimisation at their core
\nExacting retribution on an innocent
\nWho now lies prostrate on the sunken floor
\nI take offence at so bitter and spiteful attitude
\nThat waylays every innocent around
\nWhat they do for adrenaline rush is beyond the pale
\nAnd look at that poor soul there on the ground
\nAs handsome as any soul ever created
\nWith a monster standing on it who must be
\nThe most odious the most disaffected arse hole
\nWho if I had my way would be hanging from some tree<\/p>\n
Why is it men can’t love the animal species
\nBe gracious to them as they are to us
\nWhy are they so inconsiderate and so brutal
\nUngallant and so so unchivalrous
\nCrushed and dashed and bleeding on the grasslands
\nCraven hearted flinchers of the dirt
\nDespondency and hopelessness an aura in their psyche
\nWith a hideosity that has to hurt<\/p>\n
The beauty of the beast that towers above the trees
\nA brilliance and a brightness evermore
\nA paragon of virtue
\nAn enchantress really aren’t you
\nA well proportioned stylish point of view
\nWhy me this great beast uttered as she hit the dust
\nCrashing down her splendid gown looked true
\nHer suffering immense just like no other
\nShocking and forbidding all you do
\nThis creature took a massive blow into it’s head
\nAnd vanished like a white wolf in the snow
\nA belly aching brute of bias turned back and was on us
\nIn a shadow in such awful pain
\nBemoaning and pathetic
\nStraining at the leash
\nFor all his strength and vigour
\nSeemed in vain<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
These trophy hunting slobs some call them hunters I have many names for them, for they Are one of those psychopathic creeps without a father Who actually I wouldn’t pass the time of day They pay a ten grand bounty … Continue reading