With the heavy tread of one soon dead
Down a corridor of steel and steam
His head raised up to the heavens above
Thoughts of far, of life and love
He wandered off into a dream
Gone the noise, the machines and lead
Gone the perpetual sense of dread
Back to the darkening fields of grass
His fur had a shine
As he shook off the brine
Like a coat of blackened blown glass
To run, as he wished but never could
To live for an eternity but feared he never would
But in his dream
His eyes did gleam
Whatever he wished as action
Was not the choice of faction
No more
Free
Every action his own
Free
The taste of fresh meat in his mouth
F