Help me, help me... Who am I talking to? I need help can't you see What do I expect someone to do?
The hunters are camouflaged Lonely as a mallard I could try fly Hoping to avoid their eye Or I could just walk Then maybe they won't talk
Talk about me And what they think they know This mallard can't fly The pity of its lifeless body Would, in its grave, make it roll It would be brave to fly And Avoid the barrage of bullets But how could it try When that could be it's life
Although The mallard is not afraid to die He can't bare the thought of the pity For to fly and die Is many a mallards life But to fly, die and feel the pity from a watchers eye As it lies there Incapable of showing it's ability to fight Is a death of its soul Not just it's life