He clicks the case shut with well practised ease,
Walks out of the foyer and into the breeze,
He crosses the pavement to look for a ride,
Raises his hand, cab pulls alongside.

I turn my key as his cab pulls away,
Merge with the traffic in the heat of the day,
I'm hanging right back, about five or six cars,
We sail through the city past restaurants and bars.

Into the centre, the cab takes a right,
I carry on straight to stay out of sight,
I know where he's heading and what he wants to do,
He thinks he's the hunter, but he's not got a clue.

I pull up and park, get my bag from the seat,
Crossing the tarmac, I walk up the street,
Turn into an alley, climb over a wall,
Across a backyard I virtually crawl.

He enters the church, the loved house of God,
For a man with his trade, it seems kind of odd,
Hugging the walls I pass dog shit and bins,
I head for the window I know I can get in.

Climb through the frame, push my kit bag through first,
Into a storeroom, I land well rehearsed,
Out to the corridor to look for the stairs,
To get to the roof, to catch him unawares.

Out into sunlight with noise of the city below,
I look to the church to pick out my foe,
He's there by a wall, up near the spire,
No service today, no sound of a choir.

His weapon is out, he's setting his sight,
The view to my room is clear at this height,
On an ordinary day I'd be there soon,
But today's not ordinary, I have to drop this goon.

Unzip my bag and assemble the parts,
Controlling my breathing, for now's when it starts,
I zero my scope on the back of his head,
Steady myself before I fill it with lead.

There's sweat running down the back of his neck,
Breathe out slowly, safety off, final check,
I take the first pressure as my finger pulls back,
Focus intently and wait for the crack.

Recoil in my shoulder, my bullet is true,
The man on the church recieves what he's due,
The back of his skull is open and red,
But I need to make sure that this fucker is dead.

My weapon's still up and he's still in my sight,
I crack off two more, into his back they do bite,
Kit bag resealed, no trace of me being there,
The only clue will soon go, cordite in the air.