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