The threat is
Preparing their fireguns
The dogs
Staring at us begin to bark
To the ceiling of the sky
The warhorn sound
Makes us stoned

No one could escape
From the beast
It was fire
Aimless arrow

The simplicity
Of this behaviour
Sharp like a razor
Cutting his way off

Traming the prey
Holding his dead body
Just like a trophy
Stands up tall

You do not need courage
To cut off his head
This unwritten law
Will make you pay

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