Behind the veil of destiny
The path might turn in sudden twists of irony.
Night turns to day, dark turns to light.
End to the
beginning on the other side of right.
Wielder of steel, tier of ropes.
The hooded slayer without shame and without
hope.
Sentenced to death but slipped away
To live the role of a hangman at display.
Come see the play of wicked
irony.
Join the crowd of hunger
For the joy of the Carnival of Disgust.
Lonely he walks, outcast of shame.
Fearful and
spat on yet respected for his name.
Marked by the blade to be known by sight
As a walking dead man for a crime pitch black as
night.
