It cuts to the bone.
What is called my pride,
My sin will feed on me again.
Nothing living will be left.
I see the vultures, I see the crows.
I am just scavenge.
Weathered and withered.
I am just prey.
Flesh has been ripped clean from my bones.
My own selfishness and arrogance.
Oh such a feast am I.
Soon there will be nothing left.
My bones will have been picked clean.
Left to bleach in the sun.
SCOTT DAVID BUCKLEY-(27/11/2012)