Murdered In The Steppe

The cold sun falls over
The lone horizon's end
No sign for the evil
About to happen yet

Dry winds blowing
Carrying a foul smell
Across the treeless
Vast arid steppe

Blood wildly racing
A strong grip choking
A knife unsheathed
Kidneys pierced

Betrayed look
Life drained through
A corpse unburied
Vultures will be preying