-Blessed trails as the hunters' dwell in 35 degrees below 0 fahrenheit-
Winter's wretchedness withers warmth of weathers South hither
with no remorse nor course to deliver, cold tundras rendered
by the slightest of shivers- Not to be forgotten, only to be
remembered by nature's offspring with bitterness. The wilderness
weeps with melancholy, so sweet a song sung. Masses of game
passes untamed but remains hunted with long bow guns.Afterwards
the Hunters tend to their cabin retreat- observing fiery hues with
booze expressing blasphemic views. The wolves melodic cry- similar
to the sound of torn tunes. Nature erupts with hateful light through
vengeful sight, growing more ravenous with each casualties count
within a sinful night. As they acquaint themselves to a drunken state,
they see their fate within nature's forsake, awaiting its wake. Dull
glooms cast full moons immensely, through scornful symphonies,
whose faction attacks instantly with no signs of evident empathy,
simply- As nature rapes and penetrates the cabin, the Hunters are
left with a chilled countenance far colder than any winter in antartica.
They split bilateral as the wolves tear at the tender flesh to the
clavical of the saddened foe. Sweet sorrows arise along with the
bloody entrails of the unwise as nature inherits a Hunters debt.
Spirits emerge from the gory cabin with evanescence to restore fallen
game and peace at least until the next cabin's reign. Exiting with
swift speed, the wolves return to their cubs- their mouths blood ridden
with revenge. They howl under the moon's embrace encased with the
cold of the wintery night-
As they cry melodically....
http://www.rapbattles.com/forum/showthread.php?t=315642
http://www.rapbattles.com/forum/showthread.php?t=315105
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