The Stalker

THE STALKER

There is a subtle disturbance running amok the airways
Planning to stalk their prey, unlikely to see their laid out lairs
Together they team, goading each other, making a din
Control a hand span away, feeling the win
Destroy the lot in the way

Small minds, being on top, finding at last control
Beat up any reformer and innocently stonewall
Preening titles, fanning their pompous walk,
Control a hand span away, shoving rough talk
Screeching destroy the lot in the way

Temporal is the stupefying place
Where insidious upstarts plan to disgrace
Right judgment for a corner room place
To plod underfoot the worthy displace

Duly, this stalker of the prey
Will fall in it tracks along the way
Blackened and blotted out never to sway
What is honorable
For good will inevitably win the day