Leo

Intent intense through tonsils growls the beast Nature the make up of the jungle wild Hang not your head below the moon lit hour For he that feast is kingdom of his throne To meet him is to say death is my choice And only morbid echoes afterward Muscular body, short with rounded head With hairy tuft astride the end of tail The stars align at night to say his name Yet in the light, how beautiful his mane Do not assume the lion sleeps tonight For victim is the prey with vision keen We shall not say the beast hence say the best For none compare to that which is the king