He hides in the shadows

More beast than man,

Less human than divine

He peers into a scope -

Pinpoints innocence in a cross

Of fear - hatred fills his days

He looks like you... Looks like me

Enough to make one wonder

If perhaps he occasionally forgets

To brush his teeth, rushing off to work

In an office space like you or me,

Did he ever cry himself to sleep,

Or feel a real feeling of love?

So far eight dead, and two wounded

Who will be next to die?

In the cross of death inside

His hideous, hate filled eye

On a highway to hell,

There's a warped white van

And a tired little man on his way to hell

And a pit of noxious fumes

Will claim him...