No one sees me coming,
They think me easy prey,
They think I don't have tactics planned,
To bring about their day.
Barbaric class of soldiers,
With their eyes upon the rest,
They all think of me as run and hide,
Naught knowing I'm the best.
Assassination, proclamation,
Exclamation and cremation,
Think I steer clear of their station,
I'm the darkest of creation.
While they fight against the pack,
I'll count their souls as sold,
For I know for sure they can't fight back,
While their blood's running cold.
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