The sun sits low in the crook of the mountain
A heart pumps blood for the vultures to feed
A weathered face looks up to the oldest gods he knows
And sets his chest unto the trees
The forest groans as he approaches
He comes to take the timber down
To conjure fire, smoke, and ash
Bring his quarry to the town
Meatcraft, the ancient ways
Meatcraft, the knife obeys
Tonight we swath the blood above our door
Meatcraft, the tools of flame
Meatcraft, a butcher's fame
Tonight we eat the spoils of our war
The sharpest blade waits for the master
The roasting pit a spark in his eye
Starts at sunrise, works through the night
The salted flesh he piles high
He browns his charge to sweet perfection
Licks his lips, stands to admire
Greasy fingers, blackened face
His meat will stand the test of time
Meatcraft, the ancient ways
Meatcraft, the knife obeys
Tonight we swath the blood above our door
Meatcraft, the tools of flame
Meatcraft, a butcher's fame
Tonight we eat the spoils of our war
Taste the blood and sweat brought about your meal
Savor flesh and bone - the moment of the kill
You will die my son but today is not the day
With steely eyes the hunter sets upon his prey
Meatcraft, the ancient ways
Meatcraft, the knife obeys
Meatcraft, the tools of flame
Meatcraft, a butcher's fame
Meatcraft tonight we feast
Meatcraft and slay the beast
Meatcraft a sharpened blade
Meatcraft, an honored trade