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CRY

In the jungle, the torchlight cuts through the dark,

Armed with guns, to shoot on sight is the hunter's thrill

With greed and a high to capture and kill, the evil embark

Knowing exactly who and what they are going to kill.

 

The beast hears the intruder and sees death around the corner

She runs through the trees hoping that the hunters won't find her

The jungle silence is interrupted by sound of running feet through the stream

Darkness waits fearfully, waiting to hear death's scream

 

And as the beast runs for its life it cries for help into the night

The hunters stop, they smile as they sense the beast's fright

Cornered suddenly by a rock it cannot get over,

The beast sees death in the hunters who are now aiming at her.

And from behind the rock, came an old lady, dressed in white,

The hunters and the lady exchanged views, the hunters dispersed realizing what they were doing was not right.

The beast sighed in relief and howled at the lady in thanks giving

Something in her made evil man go, giving the beast a new beginning.

 

I know that I am a sinner, a beast of some sort

I have my untamed ways, but the hunter for sure I am not.

The preachers, leaders and politicians are the hunters of our time,

Hunting to exploit me taking away the love and freedom that is mine.

If I were tracked down again, they'll kill the live in me for sure I know.

That lady was Mother Teresa, and she is no more.

The hunters will hunt, they'll be nobody to put them to shame

Making the under privileged, helpless and poor, instruments in their game.

 

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