My fluid thoughts moving across this hard face/
I lost pace, trying to keep up the crimes/
And lost the race, didn't note the change in the times/
But as long as I've got my trench, gloves, and hat/
I strike fear in the city I love and that's that/
I put a bat to the back of these hoods, thugs and dregs/
Put crooked cops to sleep, drug dealers to bed/
First night on patrol, I remember he said:/
"I killed her, I need help, arrest me now!"/
My reply: "Men get help, dogs get put down."/
Put the knife to his head, my face splashed with red/
That night is known (for those who don't know that)
As the birth of Rorshach and the passing of Kovacs/
I detect with each step, my mind a cold ax/
My tactics help collect the cold facts/
The end is nigh - I can hear it coming/
Prostitutes lead the parade of politicians' procession/
The end is near - I can hear the drumming/
So I'm putting on my face: my city's ugly reflection/
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