In the wide and deep woods, spotted hunters creep
In their unholy kinship, a covenant they never keep
With ravenous jaws and yellow eyes, in a jagged ring
They ambush golden spirit of the jungle’s rightful king.
No lecherous single could break the monarch’s stride
But for a cruel and frenzy mass, there is no room to hide
They nip heels, tear the breath with untiring, cold intent
Until muscle and resolve of king is sunken out and spent.
So walks a virtuous man through tittle-tattle of the vile
The hidden hands and hollow hearts conspire him to fall
Not by a single honest blow, but through a thousand lies
The pack of vested interests hunts beneath a fair disguise.
They try eroding his dignity with treachery’s slow grind
The tactics of attrition waged by the acrid, narrow mind
Until a noble heart, drained by malice and selfish interest
Retreats from the front where the starving shadows feast.
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