The best of crimes is the one that is quick and silent
It creeps up from behind
Stalking you on velvet paws
And before you know what’s hit you
You’re down there, there was no shot,
And there’ll be no writhing about.
Not even a sound and it’s all over.
Even better if it happens at night:
Darkness is a ready-made shroud.
Too slow and it gives you time to think,
Time to be terrified, and you’ll go whimpering.
In this game, where the devil plays executioner,
Disease is just an amateur.