As you pass me in the street,
its not the timing of your feet,
I see from you stance you dont feel threatened,
perhaps my past would well be beckoned,
For once an enemy there stood,
His face once covered,
Like yours with a hood,
But words he did not unleash at me,
It was belt fed,or an RPG,
Aware again i stand and stare,
Looking for cover,
Not here,not there,
This is my country,
i am at home,
You stand and stare,
youre right i am alone,
But fancy your chances,and you will see,
That killing machine is still inside of me……