Many a man is bold with blunts

But used to often the courage stunts

The razors edge, that thin red line ..

It's by sharps my friend that men define

Not by game nor vigorous sport

But for honors sake and as a last resort

Command of nerve over bone and steel

Couched in death for t'is always "real"

A practice target can make fair thrill

But the living men they make the kill...

If synch is not, sad rock and roil

the flesh shall rot beneath dark soil

So "alle vous" he spoke to you

No lies now, for steel t'is true

What you feel, mostly ruthless

Burning steel for those most "truthless"

A harsh reminder of the times gone mad

Of what was lost and what was had..

Not for most,

But sure for some

I am the ghost,

Let the spirit come