He stares, with eyes, that come from the bowels of hell He sees, through you, part of his deadly spell He smiles, he laughs, he checks his tools of death He asks, "last words?" like it was a gruesome test Fear the executioner Damn the executioner He moves, with grace, like an artist on showcase He knows, his trade, there is no time to waste He feels, no guilt, as another life he takes He shows, no shame, he's a devil face to face Fear the executioner Damn the executioner His blood, runs cold, like ice from the arctic north His touch, it burns, with a very intense scorch His mind, is closed, it might as well be dead His life, was set, for execution he was bred