Victim of the Game
As they spread their wings and soar through the sky
They haven't a clue-through a scope-a sniper keeps out an eye
He waits and observes as they swoop down to land
He raises his gun and aims-their life could end with a slip of the hand
A serial killer to those creatures-that fly through the air
Waiting for that ideal moment-no existance will he spare
That moment has arrived-he takes his gun and aims
He pulls the trigger-bullets are fired-another victim of his game.