Sorrow whispers from the hollow bones of I
Birthing fear within each moan and sigh
Conclusion just a mere trick among prying eyes
The answer lies hidden in cryptic disguise
Before fate I rise to combat a deathly age
Behead the master of sin who continues to rage
One knows not if he possesses the act of sage
Like a bullet, the hearts of many he'd graze
Death skulks in every footprint he creates
One would be foolish to tread in his wake
Let caution be measured in stealth like a snake
Flesh he is seeking; for a taste he won't wait
