There lies the weak wildebeest

Lying on the sun-baked ground

Taking it's dying breaths without a sound

Above circle the vultures waiting to feast

With wrinkled necks and bulging eyes

And a ravenous appetite 

Reeking of their last meal's fright

They can no longer wait for their prey to die

So they descend from their lofty perch

On to the poor, agonized beast

Alive, and knowing of the vultures' feast

It hears every greedy chirp

Of all the vultures' mocking words

Begging for sweet Death to collect it's soul

The beast is torn apart by vultures young and old

The wildebeest's death has still not yet occured

It begs and begs "kill me now."

"Take the pain away, you can have me

As long as you bring the solace of death to me."

The vultures laugh with a vile sound

A sound that echoes through

Filled to the brim with cruelty

Darkened by a lack of empathy

An evil sound 'tis true

The vultures tore the beast apart 

Stealing every bit of its pure, innocent heart.