For all the deer hunters.
In late summer I see the monster,
He walks through the fields as proud as can be,
He roams through the woods as if he were king
he wears his crown with the greatest pride,
In mid September his velvet wears thin,
As bone breaks through they come to a point.
He polishes his crown with the greatest pride,
It gleams in the sunlight from dawn to dusk.
As fall rolls around and the days get shorter and the nights get colder
He hears shots in the distance,
He knows it won't be long.
He remembers close encounters of years gone past where he escaped near death by the skin of his teeth.
It won't be long now before he runs like the devil; he'll have to hide well, to protect his life.
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