The Hunter

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 patterns, habits 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 cannibal, The beast, The undead, 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 habits, patterns 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.