Anthrax.

I sharpen my senses, Prepare my mind, On my new mission, Who knows what I'll find. I'll take out my magnum, And silence the end, Then rack my grenades up, Theres no hope for you, friend. I sit in my mail room, Awaiting the time, For the strike to commence, And the power to be mine. I'll throw down my weapons, And start using my head, Under cover of hatred, I'll make you all dead. I'll send all my letters, And post all my pain, I'll spread all the hatred, When you feel it; its mine. When the questions are asked, And they proportion the blame, You won't see my face, Or hear them whisper my name. They'll be looking elsewhere, And blaming the others, The nation of Islam, Our demonised brothers.About the Anthrax situation. Written November 17th, 2001 © on Nov 17 2001 10:19 AM PST   0 • 9