by Peter Loaf
Illegal logging, national park
The land protected, the forces dark
The rangers corrupt
Our protests disrupt
Nail gunning mission, the signs that mark
Sawmill disaster, nail in a log
Hiking in forest, sometimes I jog
Single shot silenced
Stopping the violence
First sign of danger, a distant dog
The loggers tracking, could be a push
The nail gun hiding, under a bush
Just jogging the trail
An innocent frail
Climbing a mountain, you wouldn’t Schuss
To highway fleeing, climbing the ridge
The dogs come snapping, trapped under bridge
Jogging shorts grabbing
Tree hugger nabbing
Pulled down and guarding, my rights abridge
The ranger follows, two lumberjacks
Three on one struggle, practiced attack
A tree hugger bound
My nail gun is found
My shorts are shredded, baring my back
Hands bound together, far side of tree
Legs spread and helpless, for all to see
My titties in grip
His hot buttered tip
My anus pressing, I have to pee
Forest primeval, tree hugging dame
Three men molesting, the slavers game
The chopper called in
True training begin
Air freight to desert, new life of shame
Street sweeping ranger, working for mob
His penis probing, my pleading sob
My pussy swollen
Fucking my colon
Fingertips toying, my little knob
The chopper landing, three swinging dicks
Wide wet and ready, for three more tricks
The girl on the tree
My subbie set free
Bone Ranger switching, giving me licks
Cock in my asshole, tongue in my cunt
The third one mounting, face fucking runt
A ring gag wearing
With six men sharing
Training in transit, on pussy hunt
The flight is endless, over the pole
The crew I’m serving, a handy hole
A slave in my heart
Their slave training art
Masters my Masters, selling my soul
Pain/pleasure/passion, Master decides
My subbie lusty, the real me hides
Its sweeter stolen
My spreading pollen
Nose twitching Masters, bidding for brides
