The Hunter - B. Dolan

Sitting up in bed when the sun sets

The room is such a mess

Keep it darker than the crypt

Rumble in my stomach

Wreak of garlic and incense

Stumble from the bed

I dreamed of monsters again

Sharpen my instruments

As part of my dilligence

Polishing springs and pins

Hardens the killer instinct

Darkness slips in

I stalk them in the mist

And walk the empty city

Looking for my nemesis

I’m a vampire hunter.

A bounty killer

I know my way around and I’m bound to deliver

I’ve lived among the parasites for more than half my life

Studied their evil habits, patterns and appetites

I’m a Hunter

Land in the city with a caravan of gypsies

Who hand me crucifixes and whisper their superstition

I keep it moving in tune with the moon’s position

Setup with a smooth precision

Every night’s a new mission

I lift the lids of these stale boxes of dirt

Because I put stake in heart

And faith in hard work

Now watch their snake eyes

Awake in surprise as they die

Cut out the heart and burn it at the graveside

Say goodbye

I’m saving lives and the pay is fine, besides

The truth is I get a thrill

When it comes to the killing time

I’m a vampire hunter.

A bounty killer

I know my way around and I’m bound to deliver

I’ve lived among the parasites for more than half my life

Studied their evil patterns, habits and appetites

I’m a Hunter

They’re not human

Not the people you remember

They are the undead, The beast, The cannibal, The predator

They are disease, They feed off death

But there’s a sacred mutilation

That will lay them to rest

You need a vampire hunter, a bounty killer

Who knows his way around and is bound to deliver

Who’s lived among the parasites for more than half his life

Studied their evil patterns, habits and appetites

«I wear my sunglasses at night,»

I don’t know why

I’m just sensitive to the light

When I was young I had

Such a strong sense of wrong and right

Them days are gone

Life is long, not forever

Right?

(right.)

These silver bullets pack a helluva bite

But I ain’t never been the sucka type

(still i get bloody like)

The incident that happened down in Exeter town

Where the daughter of George Brown

Wouldn’t rest in the ground

We had a posse of men

Even the Providence Press

Dug up the body

And cut out the black heart from her chest

Less than a month later

Her older brother was dead

And I was wanted by the court

To explain what I did

So

I ran away and hid in the next city

But something of the strange events must’ve stayed with me

Made me face the mirror for a moment to question

Imagine my surprise when I saw

No reflection