The wolves, they come to feed
        the sheep, they stay and bleed
            one's a service the other's need
                and superstition plants the seed.

    The bloodlust runs all through the night
        and sheep, they tremble with their fright
            sharp fangs crunch bones when they bite
                they kick, they struggle, they fight.

    The wolves they'll have it no other way
        the sheep? well they've got nothing to say
            and when they're done at moon they'll bay
                and in cool shade of day they'll lay.

                    - Wolves and Sheep
                    - Fredric Rice, Sep. 1993.