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• Artiste: Fictional
• Titre: Hunting Machine
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Rows and rows of teeth As sharp as a razor blade Laying by the river bank Waiting for his prey Along comes his prey With no sense of fear The hunter takes his chance And bites off his ear He's the hunting machine King of his land He takes opportunities That falls in his hand He's the hunting machine An ancient dinosaur One thing you don't want Sitting by your door As night turns to day He lays in the baking sun Building up his energy And thinking about his tum A sorry soul comes along As blind as night can be Has no chance to take a breath And the hunter has his tea