The Tribe

The Tribe

Deep in the valley, through the glen
There lives a tribe, of hideous men
Their limbs are twisted, gnarled and gnawed
Who created them, their monstrous god
They feed on debris or each other, if none
They stay in the dark, out of the sun
Such evil they hold, these vile creatures of the night
With drooling mouths, as each other they fight
There are no winners, no losers as such
For in their own shadows, the creatures do lurch
And yet for eternity, this tormented tribe
Hold their existance, with such pride
For their monstrous god, will take care of them
These lost souls, his hideous men

parkman