LYRIC FOR SALE

By Edward Kenny

The path goes through the forest,
Protected by the trees,
For eons now, well-trodden,
With buried memories .

The shadow of the hunter,
With arrow and with bow,
His purpose now forgotten,
So many years ago.

The path goes through the forest,
The desperate flight of prey,
The blessed and misbegotten,
The one that got away.

The spectres of the hunted,
With every setting sun,
The power of the weapon,
The science of the gun.

The hunter and the hunted (CHORUS)
Once we're brothers on this earth,
A wall may hold a trophy,
But, what is that trophy worth?
The hunter and the hunted,
After hubris, after mirth,
How can death have an author,
That still cannot author birth?

The path goes through the forest,
The tree falls to the ground,
The bark is growing rotten,
But, no one hears a sound.

The spirit of the hunter 
That roams in search of sleep,
The hunted have been gotten,.
There's nothing left to keep.

The hunter and the hunted (CHORUS)
Once we're brothers on this earth,
A wall may hold a trophy,
But, what is that trophy worth?
The hunter and the hunted,
After hubris, after mirth,
How can death have an author,
That still cannot author birth?