Do you hear the hunt in the distance?
Mongrels baying for blood.
That overarching tradition - blood sport.
The thrill of the chase.
The howling beasts foam at the mouth
To sate their hunger, they chase you down.
You better run, you better hide
Find an escape from the hounds.
Temperatures rise, sweat on their brow
Heartbeat thunders, stalking the prey
A few more paces, time to pounce
Teeth bared, from adrenaline blind
Fulfilling this carnal desire
The howling beasts foam at the mouth
To sate their hunger, they chase you down
Nowhere to run, to late to hide
Never succumb to the hounds.
No escape from the hounds
The hounds
The hounds

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