Year Of The Cadaver Race

A black and white moving
cloud of wings in the sky,
a flock of vultures approach
while blotting out the sun.

Their shrieks are deafening
to the human ears.
Of those who died, all return!

Feel the hoofs, they're coming.
Hear the growls, they're coming.
Fallen prey now hunts their hunter,
vengeance of the animal beast.

See their numbers, they're coming.
Smell their stench, they're coming.
Slaughtered victims now slay their master,
retaliation of the beast.

Nations are trampled
under four legged flesh.
A pounding horde of hollow
bodies in sight.

They rear their skulls
and cry out.
Of all those who were killed,
all return.

Echoes of swine squeals
distorting the silence.
Reclaiming the loss of meat
stolen from their bodies.

Chewing and pissing
on human remains.
Of all those who were slain,
all return.

Moans and barks coming
from the same direction.
The human's pets no longer
sit at their sides.

Primitive instincts,
animalistic dogma.
Of all those in captivity,
now in devious activity.

Species without
a language of words
known only for their deeds.

A call upon death,
death answers quickly.
Of all those who're alive,
not an animal, not a man.

Feel the hoofs, they're coming.
Hear the growls, they're coming.
Fallen prey now hunts their hunter,
vengeance of the animal beast.

See their numbers, they're coming.
Smell their stench, they're coming.
Slaughtered victims now slay their master,
retaliation of the beast.

Massive human emibration,
massive death inhabitation.