A Bridge From The Other Side

Before now from the past I recall across distant morning the fog rising up with the rest all but a few knew today might very well be the last day of their brutal existance they call life come, come with me we stroll across field's filled with death and some young twitching still with some life though they be dead one body it moves as of it stripped of their clothes some common few like his standing over the corps I kick his side where a buzzard crawls forth from his; caught off guard the knife quickly comes out leaving nothing to chance I cleave the head from the buzzard, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop the rest of it's body flapping it's wings though the sound one should know where everyone sings. except for the head is inside.