One About to Fall - Beau
The heavy mist is on the trees
A hanging in the morning sky
Through which we run not only I
But those who follow in my steps
Across the frozen winter ground
The echo of their clarion sound
Is deafening my ears
The quickened pulse and gasping breath
Are mine amid the growing din
My blood is pure adrenalin
My senses heighten hear the call
Across the day the hunter moves
As close behind the flailing hooves
Still thunder in my wake
And so it is these towering trees
That stand aloft aloof and tall
Salute the one about to fall
The mist is growing colder now
The running eyes and gasping breath
Are quickened in the jaws of death
That slaver as they bay
And carry me away
