Murder, Be My Muse
[A book of various poems attributed to Invoker Grimlark] Song of the New To grip the axe firm: a duty most kind, To hold and to hope in the heft of the blade. Know well your victim before it's unmade: Walk in its footsteps and stand in its mind. Watch it meander 'cross paths intertwined: Learn places and people, tunes yet unplayed, Then when the day's done and sun starts to fade Hold firm that true axe, and swing from behind. Now the deed's done you must run from the place Bleating and wheezing, tongue thick with the taste Savour it now, for it will not last long. Stand near a mirror, behold your own face: Bloody, new-knowing, and clean it with haste - The city awaits a new killer's song.