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He creeps in the night
he has no life
just simply a weapon
one with a knife
he feels no pain
just a strong drive
the lust for blood
he's barely alive
the ice blue stare
that's full of hate
he seals their life
their final fate
clock strikes twelve
his job is done
his soul is fed
with the life of one
and so he goes
without a clue
of what he's done
he's one of the few
the few who sleep
then walk and dream
the few who cross
the dream realm seem
their nightmares bleed
the do turn real
but they don't know
they don't feel
they'll never know
what they do
so think real hard
could one be you?
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