In a dim-lit alley, he slides down the wall,
Assassin Bill waits for the silence to fall.
Smoke fills his lungs, with a blade held tight,
Silent as shadows, he prowls through the night.
Bill’s no hero; he dances with dust,
Creeping through nightmares, in darkness he trusts.
Bound to the shadows where secrets collide,
Whispers like serpents that hiss and confide. (hmmmm mm)
Assassin Bill,
In the shadows, still,
Moves through the night with a deadly skill.
Takes no prisoners, leaves no trace,
Just a phantom in darkness who knows your face.
Ink on his skin tells tales of the past,
Every scar a reminder of how long he’ll last.
He walks through the flames with a smirk and a flair,
Death as his ally, with no need to care.
His heart’s a black void where no light can shine,
Lives for the thrill, what else could be fine?
Every step silent, a predator’s pace,
In the dance of shadows, Bill knows his place.
In the depth of the night, when dreams start to fray,
Bill’s the last thing you’ll see—better pray.
No moral chains, he’s free as the air,
In Assassin Bill’s world, there’s despair everywhere.
So tread lightly now, where the shadows blend,
In a game of survival, there’s no helping hand.
For when darkness calls and the silence thrills,
You’ll find yourself haunted by Assassin Bill.
