Species.
Lyric - Bat
I live in the worst places you can imagine
I stay deeply hidden, away from blinding light
The fact that I'm in a large group isn't random
An eerie sight, when we take over the night
A black mist, a black cloud, rapidly gliding
Screeches echoing off of hollow walls
A tremendous spectacle to see us in unison flying
The lords of the night when darkness falls
Feeding on bugs and fruit, we toast the moon
Darting and bobbing, while the innocent sleep
The devil’s reminder of impending doom
Messengers of the dark, guardians of the deep
Twixn - Wolf
the pack mentality... see we live for the simple glee of the hunt
our pack consists of grunts, the strongest at the front
none attempt's stunts for honor, we righteously ration our food
never depending on the mood, all brothers are included
only one is secluded for the sake of leadership, n' we trust
we must follow without a doubt, subtle choices never unjust
threw dust and snow we wander splattering blood for survival
the fit live, weak wither, n' when the time comes we set aside rivals
giving all a chance to prove there worth... were a family
jumping on any opportunity's as one none can touch us... see
this is our permanent credo although at times harsh... needed
if one is to bleed, no call in the night is ever left unheeded
so lead on into the fading moonlight and let lose a call
to those who crawl in the wilds... we shall always enthrall
Bloomquist - Vulture
An irrelevant scavenger, no definition,
Blood thirsty for anorexic knowledge.
I isolate my mentality, waiting.
Waiting for the opportunity to sacrifice.
Pupils blaze in agony with portrayed anxiety.
Curse the virtue of patience.
You grow weak; your flesh is pale,
And your soul is withering with your skin.
You try to detach your mind,
Of me hovering above your lonely self,
But you cannot prevail.
Give up, give in you pathetic pawn.
You’re the prey of that who is weaker than you.
I take advantage of your misfortunes.
Sharp - Pigeons
We huddle on street corners,
sharing stories that the city whispers.
They call us rats with wings,
I wish we were that lucky. The rats live in warm homes,
eat lavishly under the breaths of humans and
snicker at us with their obese children on their backs..
I wish we were that lucky.
We have to endure the razors of winter,
while parasites suck the blood and life out of our hearts.
We're the angels of concrete.
Flying through the skyscrapers, listening,
sharing stories that the city whispers.
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