In all of 60 seconds
The deed is quickly done
And there is no going back
Once the bullet leaves the gun
There is no magic moment
No trophy for the feat
There are no starving children
That hunger for the meat
But there is a gloating hunter
That boasts of his great kill
That takes the head for his wall
That shoots just for the thrill
Someone who finds enjoyment
Out of taking an innocent life
One who skins an animal for its fur
And guts it with their knife
Then brags about their aim and skill
And all the work that they have done
They polish and they clean
All their precious bows and guns
Yet little do they realize
They have murdered or sometimes maimed
Whether human prey or an animal
The dying is the same
The breath it slows and an emptiness
Slowly takes control
The fear, the panic, and the pain
The losing of the soul
So how can someone claim no wrong?
And be proud for what they did?
How can they condone the slaughter?
And teach it to their kids?