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| In the depths of a forest where fear guards the way And the screams of the dying are never far away The scent of an evening rolls into a cave And awakens a tiger too feral for brave Mangy and smelly and crusty with age His whiskers are yellow and stained with rage His hunger and passion are deep and red-eyed He is the cave tiger and last of his kind Under his claws on the hearth of his keep Traces of wild boar, human and sheep Matters of blood on the floor and the walls Tell of the darkness and heart of it all The tiger is patient and watches like death The sweep of the stars and the passing of breath Glistening like wine on a black velvet tray The eyes of the tiger melt silent away |
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