Friday the 13th, unlucky for some.
The Hawks came in low, floating over the treetops.
I closed my eyes, but still I could see them.
...on fire, burning into my mind.
Yes... everyone was a murderer.
Even...
"Are you my assassin?... my Brutus?"
"Why do you lurk in the shadows? Are you afraid to be..."
...seen things you people wouldn't believe.
How many people had I fought... and killed?
And to what end?
Peace?
"The killer awoke before dawn, he put his boots on
He took a face from the ancient gallery
And he walked on down the hall"
"Appropriate don't you think?"
"20th century poets always had a way with words."
