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There is no tomorrow for those who strive
They try to stay alive
With any luck they'll find food
The world turns on them, no wonder they're in a bad mood
They pray for a chance
They pray for baby Lance
They lurk in the shadows at night
They squeeze into boxes that are too tight
Their fur is black like their hearts
They have fighting marks
Because their eyes are so keen and a beady red
They awaken the dead
They move quick
Swishing their tails with a flick
I am one as a matter of fact
iiKillerKat
 iiCrazyCrayon · Thu Jul 16, 2009 @ 04:17am · 1 Comments |
