The shadows, they shift, swallowing the light
The shadows, they shift, swallowing the signs of life
The shadows chase the yellow, then they take a bite

I am not the one, not my prints on the gun
That’s not an ideal expression
I am not the one, it’s not artfully done
My design would be challenging and fun

I have no remorse, no guilt on my trail
I have no remorse, though the fuzz is on my tail
This pleasure is a treasure found in their entrails

I am not the one, not my prints on the gun
That’s not an ideal expression
I am not the one, it’s not artfully done
My design would be challenging and fun

You try to pin this sophomoric act on me
Man, I’ll strike again so you see my expertise
A nihilist, a survivalist, I’d sooner remain free
Each time, a more refined and sweeter symphony
Lack of evidence, hidden messages, encompass all the deceased