His Dinner Table

Blackened meats on stove stops and grills A better taste A distaste between wills I find her on my hunting ground with the possessions belonging to my plate But I have no plate I put down bows arrows knives and pride to give back men like you who take advantage of the miles to make two meals and no supper One should suffer because I have never eaten and etched into menus with your name But by the sweat of your brow I'll never eat Put in practice limp muscles for my own feast And I can't blame you For that's the nature of the beast Sneaking bites between lunch and dinner But it helps me to keep my center in forever motion so I too can have meat